THE TAVERN PANORAMA
We have to-day scores of places of amusement, and means of amusement,
where in earlier days all diversions centred at the tavern. The furnishing
of food and shelter to travellers and to horses, and of liquid comfort to
neighbors, was not the only function of the tavern, nor the meeting for
cheerful interchange of news and sentiment. Whatever there was of novelty
in entertainment or instruction, was delivered at the tavern, and it
served as the gathering place for folk on scores of duties or pleasures
bent. There was in fact a constant panorama passing within the walls and
before the doors of an old tavern, not only in the shape of distinguished,
picturesque, and unwonted guests, but through the variety of uses to which
the tavern was put. It would be impossible to enumerate them all. Many of
the chapters of this book indicate some of them. We can simply glance at a
few more of the most common and of the most interesting ones.
Though guests of colonial days are often named as having visited the old
taverns which still linger intact, the names of importance which are most
frequently heard are those of Revolutionary heroes and visitors, those of
Franklin, Washington, and Lafayette being most proudly enumerated.
Franklin was a great local traveller. His post-office affairs took him
frequently along the road. He was fond of visiting, and people were
naturally fond of having him visit them. He was such a welcome guest that
he need not have entered a tavern from Maine to Georgia. Washington made
several trips through the states, one of much ceremony. He gives the names
of the taverns at which he stopped.
I have been in tavern-rooms honored a century ago by the sleeping presence
of Washington, but I have never slept in them. I would rather look at them
than sleep in them; and I have moralized over the simplicity and lack of
luxury which was the best that the tavern could offer, even to that great
man.
Lafayette was made welcome in many private houses in his tour in 1824, but
he also was a tavern guest. His journal is preserved in Paris,
untranslated. In it he tells of seeing the well-known Landing of Lafayette
plates and dishes for the first time at a tavern in a small town in
western New York.
All the statesmen of the South stopped at taverns on the old National
road: Harrison, Houston, Taylor, Polk, and Allen. Homespun Davy Crockett,
popular General Jackson, stately Henry Clay, furnished a show for the
country by-standers to gape at. In the Northern states Daniel Webster was
the god whose coming was adored. A halo of glory shed by his presence
still hangs round many a tavern room, and well it may, for he was a giant
among men.
[Illustration: Washington Tavern, North Wilbraham, Massachusetts.]
To show the variety of the tavern panorama let me quote what Edwin
Lasseter Bynner wrote of the inns of Boston:--
"They were the centres of so much of its life and affairs, the resort
at once of judge and jury, of the clergy and the laity, of the
politician and the merchant; where the selectmen came to talk over the
affairs of the town, and higher officials to discuss the higher
interests of the province; where royal governors and distinguished
strangers were entertained alike with the humblest wayfarer and the
meanest citizen; where were held the carousals of roistering red-coat
officers, and the midnight plottings of muttering stern-lipped
patriots; where, in fine, the swaggering ensign of the royal army,
the frowning Puritan, the obnoxious Quaker, the Huguenot refugee, and
the savage Indian chief from the neighboring forest might perchance
jostle each other in the common taproom."
Naturally the tavern proved the exhibition place and temporary
lodging-place of all secular shows which could not be housed in the
meeting-house. It contained the second assembly room in size, and often
the only other large room in town save that devoted to religious
gatherings. Hence, when in Salem in 1781 "the Sentimentalists and all
Volontiers who are pleased to encourage the extensive Propogation of
Polite Literature" were invited to attend a book auction by a "Provedore
and Professor of Auctioneering," this sale of books was held at Mr.
Goodhue's tavern. At the American Coffee-house in Boston the firm that
vendued books within doors also sold jackasses on the street.
"Monstrous Sights" found at the tavern a congenial temporary home, where
discussion of their appearance was held before the tavern bar, while the
tavern barn restrained and confined the monster if he chanced to be a wild
beast. A moose, a walrus, a camel, a lion, a leopard, appeared in
succession in Salem taverns, chiefly at the Black Horse. Then came a
wonder of natural history, a Pygarg, said to be from Russia. We have a
description of it: it had "the likeness of a camel, bear, mule, goat, and
common bullock"; it is spoken of in the book of Deuteronomy, Chapter XIV.
I am not sure that we would recognize our native American moose if he were
not called by name, in the creature advertised as having "a face like a
mouse, ears like an ass, neck and back like a camel, hind-parts like a
horse, tail like a rabbit, and feet like a heifer." Cassowaries, learned
pigs, learned horses, and rabbits were shown for petty sums. Deformed
beasts and persons were exhibited. Pictures, "prospects," statues,
elaborate clocks, moving puppets, and many mechanical contrivances could
be viewed in the tavern parlor.
"Electrical machines" were the wonder of their day. Solemn professors and
gay "fakirs" exhibited them from tavern to tavern. The first
lightning-rods also made a great show. Shortly after the invention of
balloons, came their advent as popular shows in many towns. They often
ascended from the green in front of the tavern. They bore many pompous
names,--"Archimedial Phaetons," "Vertical Aerial Coaches," "Patent
Foederal Balloons." The public was assured that "persons of timid nature"
would find nothing to terrify them in the ascent. They were not only
recommended as engines of amusement and wonder, but were urged upon
"Invaletudinarians" as hygienic factors, in that they caused in the ascent
the "sudden revulsion of the blood and humours" of aeronautic travellers.
The Bunch of Grapes housed Mr. Douglas when he delivered his famous
lecture on "Heads, Coats of Arms, Wigs, Ladies' Head Dresses," etc.; it
was an office for John Hurd, an early insurance broker, chiefly for marine
risks. Nearly all the first insurance offices were in taverns.
[Illustration: Black Horse Tavern, Salem, Massachusetts.]
One intelligent chronicler relates:--
"The taverns of Boston were the original business Exchanges; they
combined the Counting House, the Exchange-office, the Reading-room,
and the Bank: each represented a locality. To the Lamb Tavern, called
by the sailors 'sheep's baby,' people went 'to see a man from
Dedham'--it was the resort of all from Norfolk County. The old Eastern
Stage House in Ann Street was frequented by 'down Easters,' captains
of vessels, formerly from the Penobscot and Kennebec; there were to be
seen groups of sturdy men seated round an enormous fire-place,
chalking down the price of bark and lumber, and shippers bringing in a
vagrant tarpaulin to 'sign the articles.' To the Exchange Coffee-House
resorted the nabobs of Essex County; here those aristocratic eastern
towns, Newburyport and Portsmouth, were represented by ship owners and
ship builders, merchants of the first class."
The first attempt at the production of plays in New England was a signal
for prompt and vital opposition. Little plays called drolls were exhibited
in the taverns and coffee-houses; such plays as _Pickle Herring_, _Taylor
riding to Brentford_, _Harlequin and Scaramouch_. About 1750 two young
English strollers produced what must have been a mightily bald rendering
of _Otway's Orphans_ in a Boston coffee-house; this was a step too far in
frivolity, and stern Boston magistrates took rigid care there were no more
similar offences. Many ingenious ruses were invented and presented to the
public to avoid the hated term and conceal the hated fact of play acting.
"Histrionic academies" were a sneaking introduction of plays. In 1762 a
clever but sanctimonious manager succeeded in crowding his company and his
play into a Newport tavern. Here is his truckling play-bill:--
"KINGS ARMS TAVERN NEWPORT RHODE ISLAND
On Monday, June 10th, at the Public Room of the Above Inn will be
delivered a series of
Moral Dialogues
_In Five Parts_
Depicting the evil effects of jealousy and other bad passions and
Proving that happiness can only spring from the pursuit of Virtue.
MR. DOUGLASS--Will represent a noble magnanimous Moor called Othello,
who loves a young lady named Desdemona, and, after he marries her,
harbours (as in too many cases) the dreadful passion of jealousy.
_Of jealousy, our being's bane
Mark the small cause and the most dreadful pain._
MR. ALLYN--Will depict the character of a specious villain, in the
regiment of Othello, who is so base as to hate his commander on mere
suspicion and to impose on his best friend. Of such characters, it is
to be feared, there are thousands in the world, and the one in
question may present to us a salutary warning.
_The man that wrongs his master and his friend
What can he come to but a shameful end?_
MR. HALLAM--Will delineate a young and thoughtless officer who is
traduced by Mr. Allyn and, getting drunk, loses his situation and his
general's esteem. All young men whatsoever take example from Cassio.
_The ill effects of drinking would you see?
Be warned and fly from evil company._
MR. MORRIS--Will represent an old gentleman, the father of Desdemona,
who is not cruel or covetous, but is foolish enough to dislike the
noble Moor, his son-in-law, because his face is not white, forgetting
that we all spring from one root. Such prejudices are very numerous
and very wrong.
_Fathers beware what sense and love ye lack!
'Tis crime, not colour, that makes the being black._
MR. QUELCH--Will depict a fool who wishes to become a knave, and,
trusting to one, gets killed by one. Such is the friendship of rogues!
Take heed!
_Where fools would become, how often you'll
Perceive the knave not wiser than the fool._
MRS. MORRIS--Will represent a young and virtuous wife, who being
wrongfully suspected, gets smothered (in an adjoining room) by her
husband.
_Reader, attend, and ere thou goest hence
Let fall a tear to helpless innocence._
MRS. DOUGLASS--Will be her faithful attendant who will hold out a good
example to all servants male and female, and to all people in
subjection.
_Obedience and gratitude
Are things as rare as they are good._
Various other Dialogues, too numerous to mention here, will be
delivered at night, all adapted to the mind and manners. The whole
will be repeated on Wednesday and on Saturday. Tickets, six shillings
each, to be had within. Commencement at 7. Conclusion at half-past
ten: in order that every Spectator may go home at a sober hour and
reflect upon what he has seen, before he retired to rest.
God save the King
Long may he sway.
East, north, and south
And fair America."
We can see the little public room of the tavern with its rows of chairs
and benches at one end and the group of starveling actors at the other,
who never played a greater farce than when they set up as being solely
ministers of piety and virtue.
"Consorts" of music were given in the taverns, and, most exciting of all,
lotteries were drawn there. This licensed and highly approved form of
gambling had the sanction of the law and the participation of every
community. Churches had lotteries "for promoting public worship and the
advancement of religion." Colleges and schools thus increased their
endowments. Towns and states raised money to pay the public debt by means
of lotteries.
[Illustration: Stickney Tavern.]
It was asserted that "the interests of literature and learning were
supported, the arts and sciences were encouraged, religion was extended,
the wastes of war were repaired, inundation prevented, travel increased,
and the burthen of taxes lessened by lotteries." Many private lotteries
were drawn at the taverns, which were thronged at that time with excited
ticket-owners.
Lodges of Freemasons in America, following the custom which prevailed in
England, met at the taverns. In Philadelphia they met at Peg Mullen's
Beefsteak House. The lodges were often known by the names of the taverns
at which the meetings were held. One Boston lodge met at the Royal
Exchange Tavern, and hence was known by its name. That hostelry was,
however, so popular with the visiting public that sometimes the brethren
had to suspend their meetings for want of room. In December, 1749, the
Masons of Boston celebrated the feast of St. John, and appeared in
procession on the streets. This excited the greatest curiosity and
ridicule. Joseph Green wrote a poem in which the chief object of his wit
was Luke Vardy, the keeper of the Royal Exchange:--
"Where's honest Luke, that cook from London?
For without Luke the Lodge is undone.
'Twas he who oft dispell'd their sadness,
And filled the _Brethren's_ hearts with gladness.
_Luke_ in return is made a brother
As good and true as any other.
And still, though broke with age and wine,
Preserves the _token_ and the _sign_."
Massachusetts Grand Lodge organized at Green Dragon, and the first lodge
of all, St. John's Lodge, met in 1733 at the Bunch of Grapes in King (now
State) Street. One of the three bunches of grapes that formed the original
tavern sign still hangs in front of the lodge room of St. John's Lodge in
Masonic Temple, Boston. This tavern had an early and lasting reputation as
"the best punch-house in Boston." In Revolutionary days it became the
headquarters of High Whigs, and a scarlet coat was an inflammatory signal
in that taproom. The "Whig Tavern" was a proper centre for popular
gatherings after the evacuation of Boston; General Stark's victory at
Bennington was celebrated there "to high taste," says a participant. The
firing of cannon, discharge of rockets, playing of fifes and drums, made
satisfactory noise. The gentlemen had ample liquor within doors, and two
barrels of grog were distributed to outsiders on the streets--all "with
the greatest propriety." When General Stark arrived, a few weeks later,
there was equal rejoicing. The glories of the entertainment of Washington
and a series of gallant soldiers and distinguished travellers do not,
perhaps, reflect the honor upon the old tavern that comes from its having
been the scene of a most significant fact in our history. It was the
gathering place and place of organization of the Ohio Company--the first
concerted movement of New England toward the Great West.
[Illustration: Sign-board of Keeler's Tavern.]
The famous Craft's Tavern in the little town of Walpole, New Hampshire,
kept by Major Asa Bullard, was the gathering place in 1796 of one of the
most brilliant groups of writers ever engaged in a literary undertaking in
this country. It was called the Literary Club of Walpole, and is a
landmark in the literary life of New England. In this rustic New Hampshire
tavern this Club might repeat Beaumont's lines to Jonson beginning:--
"What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid, heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame."
[Illustration: Plate, Nahant Hotel.]
The head of this Yankee collection of wits was the Lay Preacher, Joseph
Dennie, who, at the death of the novelist, Charles Brockden Brown, was the
only man in the United States who made a profession of literature. He was
born in Boston, studied law in Charlestown, New Hampshire, then an
important and bustling town, went to Walpole, and became conductor of the
_New Hampshire Journal and Farmer's Museum_. For this newspaper and in
this Craft's Tavern he wrote his famous _Lay Sermons_ which were read from
Maine to Georgia. In the talented tavern circle was Royall Tyler, author
of the play _The Contrast_ and the novel _The Algerine Captive_. He became
Chief Justice of Vermont. Another contributor was David Everett, author of
the well-known juvenile spouting-piece, beginning:--
"You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage."
Still another, Thomas G. Fessenden, wrote _Terrible Tractoration_. It was
a day of pseudonyms; Fessenden wrote as Simon Spunky and Christopher
Caustic; Everett called himself Peter Peveril; Isaac Story was Peter
Quinn; Dennie was Oliver Old-school; Tyler was Colon and Spondee.
A day of great sport at the tavern was when there was a turkey-shoot;
these often took place on Thanksgiving Day. Notices such as this were
frequently found in the autumnal newspapers:--
"SHARP-SHOOTING.
"Thos. D. Ponsland informs his Friends and the Friends of _Sport_ that
he will on Friday, 7th day of December next, set up for SHOOTING a
number of
FINE FAT TURKEYS
and invites all _Gunners_ and others who would wish to recreate
themselves to call on the day after Thanksgiving at the Old Bakers'
Tavern, Upp. Parish Beverly, where every accommodation would be
afforded."
In the _Boston Evening Post_ of January 11, 1773, notice was given that "a
Bear and Number of Turkeys" would be set up as a mark at the Punch Bowl
Tavern in Brookline.
Captain Basil Hall, travelling in America in 1827, was much surprised at
the account of one of these turkey-shoots, which he thus fully
describes:--
"At a country inn bearing the English name of Andover, close to the
Indian river Shawsheen, I observed the following printed bill stuck up
in the bar.
SPORTSMEN ATTEND
300 FOWLS
will be set up for the sportsmen at the Subscriber's Hotel in
Tewksbury, on Friday the 12 October, inst. at 8 A.M.
Gentlemen of Tewksbury, Lowell and vicinity are invited to attend.
WILLIAM HARDY.
"This placard was utterly unintelligible to me; and the Landlord
laughed at my curiosity but good humouredly enlightened my ignorance
by explaining that these shooting matches were so common in America,
that he had no doubt I would fall in with them often. I regretted very
much having passed one day too late for this transatlantic battle. It
appears that these birds were literally barn door fowls, placed at
certain distances, and fired at by any one who chooses to pay the
allotted sum for a shot. If he kills the bird, he is allowed to carry
it off; otherwise, like a true sportsman, he has the amusement for
his money. Cocks and hens being small birds, are placed at the
distance of 165 feet; and for every shot with ball the sportsman has
to pay four cents. Turkeys are placed at twice the distance, or 110
yards, if a common musket be used; but at 165 yards if the weapon be a
rifle. In both those cases the price per shot is from six to ten
cents."
There were other sports offered at the taverns, as shown by an
advertisement in the _Essex Register_ of June, 1806:--
"SPORTSMEN ATTEND.
The Gentlemen _Sportsmen_ of this town and Vicinity are informed that
a Grand Combat will take place between the URUS ZEBU and Spanish BULL
on 4th of July if fair weather. If not the next fair day at the HALF
WAY HOUSE on the _Salem Turnpike_. No danger need be apprehended
during the performance, as the Circus is very convenient. After the
performance there will be a Grand FOX CHASE on the Marshes near the
Circus to start precisely at 6 o'clock."
A woman tavern-keeper on Boston Neck, Sally Barton, of the George, also
had bull-baiting as one of the attractions of her home. In 1763, the
keeper of the DeLancey Arms in New York had a bull-baiting. The English
officers stationed in America brought over this fashion. In the year 1774,
there was a bull-baiting held every day for many months on what is now a
quiet street near my home. Landlord Loosely,--most appropriately
named,--of the King's Head Tavern, took charge of these bull-baitings and
advertised for good active bulls and strong dogs. One advertisement, in
rhyme, begins:--
"This notice gives to all who covet
Baiting the bull, and dearly love it."
Fox-hunting, too, was beloved of the British visitors, and of Southern
planters as well. The Middle and Southern states saw frequent meets of
mounted gentlemen with hounds, usually at the tavern, to which they
returned after the day's run to end with suitable jollity.
The old English "drift of the forest" became in America a wolf-rout or
wolf-drive. Then circles of men and boys were formed to drive in toward
the centre of the ring and kill squirrels and hares which pestered the
farmers. Then came shooting matches in which every living wild creature
was a prey. The extent to which these devastating hunting parties could be
carried is shown by an article in a Bedford County (Pennsylvania)
newspaper. On Friday, December 4, 1818, about seven hundred men from
neighboring townships formed such a party. The signal was first given on
French Town Mountain, and the circle of forty miles of horn blowing to
horn was completed in fifteen minutes. The hunters progressed to a centre
in Wysox township, using guns as long as they could with safety, then
bayonets, clubs, poles, pitchforks, etc. Five bears, nine wolves, and
fourteen foxes were killed, and three hundred deer--it makes one's heart
ache. It was estimated that more than double the number escaped. The
expedition closed with great mirth at the tavern.
[Illustration: Sign-board of Wolfe Tavern, Brooklyn, Connecticut.]
I find through many legal reports and accounts of trials and arrests, that
upper rooms in the taverns were frequently used as lockups or temporary
jails. Mr. S. L. Frey, of Palatine Bridge, in his charming account of
olden days in that town, tells an amusing episode of tavern life connected
with this custom. Near the village schoolhouse lived a man named Fisk--a
quiet citizen, friendly to the boys, but given, however, to frequent
disappearances, and a profound reticence as to his means of livelihood
which was naturally a distinct grievance and indeed an injustice to every
respectably inquisitive neighbor. The boys noted that he was a great lover
of horses, and seemed to have a constant succession of new ones in his
stable, and that these newcomers vanished in as silent and unaccountable a
manner as they had arrived.
One morning the scholars were excited and delighted to learn that the
band of horse thieves that had for years ravaged the valley had at last
been ferreted out, the two leaders captured and safely lodged during the
night in the village jail, namely, a doubly locked and outside bolted room
in Uncle Jesse Vincent's tavern. And the climax of all the excitement and
pleasure was the fact that Neighbor Fisk was the leader of the gang.
Court was called in the tavern parlor at noon. The sheriff and his
officers, lawyers from neighboring towns, all importance and pomposity,
all the men and all the boys from miles around were waiting eagerly to see
once more the mysterious Fisk, when a loud shout came from the men who had
gone to lead forth the prisoners that both had escaped. Of course they
had! An open window, a leanto roof, a trellis and a high fence,--no decent
prisoner could help escaping.
But they had been startled in their plans, and hurried while exchanging
clothes, and it was plain from the garments left behind that one man had
vanished clad only in his shirt, stockings, and shoes. The dire confusion
of the first mortifying discovery soon changed to organized plans of
pursuit, and the chase turned to a great piece of woodland behind the
tavern. Oak and hickory with undergrowth of witchhazel--a prime place for
partridges and gray squirrels--led back from the river to the hills and a
deep gorge filled with solemn pines and hemlocks.
The rampant boys were snubbed early in the day by the sheriff and told to
keep back; and one tall boy--"mad" at the insult--conceived the plan of
personating the thief. He was a famous runner, the best in the school. He
hid his coat in a hollow log, pulled his shirt over his trousers, Chinaman
fashion, worked his way around on the edge of the hunting party, and was
soon "discovered" by his boy friends, whose shouts of "Stop thief!" "Here
he is!" brought the whole army of searchers after him. Oh! what a hunt
followed. All were on foot, for no horses could pass through the heavy
undergrowth; the white flag of the pursued fluttered in and out far in
front into the swamp, under the bushes. Talk of hare and hounds! no game
was ever run like that. The fleet young horse thief in front easily
distanced the puffing sheriffs in the rear, and at last the pursuit was
given over. Fisk escaped, thanks to his friends the boys, but the story of
the wrath that was visited on the conspirators when their fun was
discovered the next day at the tavern is "another story."
Sittings of courts were often held in the public room of taverns, not only
in small towns where assembly rooms were few, but in large cities. From
the settlement of Philadelphia till 1759, justices of peace heard and
decided causes in the public inns of Philadelphia, and the Common Council
had frequent sittings there. In Boston the courts were held in suburban
taverns when the smallpox scourged the town. In Postlethwaite's Tavern
(shown on page 214) the first courts of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania,
were held in 1729, and propositions were made to make it the county seat;
but the present site of the city of Lancaster was finally chosen, though
Landlord Postlethwaite made strenuous endeavors to retain his tavern as a
centre.
[Illustration: Postlethwaite's Tavern, 1729.]
Our ancestors found in criminals and all the accompaniments of crime their
chief source of diversion. They did not believe in lonely captivity but in
public obloquy for criminals. The only exciting and stirring emotions
which entered their lives came through the recounting of crimes and
offences, and the sight of the punishment of these crimes and offences;
rising of course to the highest point of excitement in witnessing the
public executions of criminals. The bilboes were the first engine of
punishment in Boston, and were used until 1639, and perhaps much later.
The drinkers of a cup of sack at the Boston ordinary had much diversion in
seeing James Woodward, who had had too much sack at the Cambridge
ordinary, "laid by the heels" on the ground with a great bar of iron
fastened and locked to his legs with sliding shackles and a bolt. Still
more satisfaction had all honest Puritans when Thomas Morton, of
Merrymount, that amusing old debauchee and roisterer, was "clapt into the
bilbowes," where "the harmless salvages" gathered around and stared at him
like "poor silly lambes."
The stocks soon superseded the bilboes and were near neighbors and
amusement purveyors to the tavern. Towns were forced by law to set up
"good sufficient stocks." Warwick, Rhode Island, ordered that "John Lowe
should erect the public stocks and whipping-post near David Arnold's
Tavern, and procure iron and timber for the same." The stocks were simple
to make; a heavy timber or plank had on the upper edge two half-circle
holes which met two similar notches or holes in a movable upper timber.
When this was in place these notches formed round holes to enclose the
legs of the prisoner, who could then be locked in.
The whipping-post, a good sound British institution, was promptly set up
in every town, and the sound of the cat often entered the tavern windows.
I can imagine all the young folk thronging to witness the whipping of some
ardent young swain who had dared to make love to some fair damsel without
the consent of her parents. There was no room for the escape of any man
who thus "inveagled" a girl; the New Haven colony specified that any
tempting without the parents' sanction could not be done by "speech,
writing, message, company-keeping, unnecessary familiarity, disorderly
night meetings, sinful dalliance, gifts, or (as a wholesale blow to
lovers' inventions) in any other way."
But sly Puritan maids found that even the "any other way" of Puritan
law-makers could be circumvented. Jacob Murline, in Hartford, on May-day
in 1660, without asking any permission of Goodman Tuttle, had some very
boisterous love-making with Sarah Tuttle, his daughter. It began by
Jacob's seizing Sarah's gloves and demanding the mediaeval forfeit--a kiss.
"Whereupon," writes the scandalized Puritan chronicler, "they sat down
together, his arm being about her, and her arm upon his shoulder or about
his neck, and hee kissed her and shee kissed him, or they kissed one
another, continuing in this posture about half an hour." The angry father,
on hearing of this, haled Jacob into court and sued him for damages in
"inveagling" his daughter's affections. There were plenty of witnesses of
the kissing, and Jacob seemed doomed to heavy fines and the
cat-o'-nine-tails, when crafty Sarah informed the Court that Jacob did not
inveigle her, that she wished him to kiss her--in fact, that she enticed
him. The baffled Court therefore had to fine Sarah, and of course Sarah's
father had to pay the fine; but the magistrate called her justly a "Bould
Virgin," and lectured her severely. To all this she gave the demure answer
"that she hoped God would help her to Carry it Better for time to come,"
which would seem to be somewhat superfluous, since she had, without any
help, seemed to do about as well for herself as any girl could wish to
under the circumstances.
[Illustration: Sign-board of Pembroke Tavern.]
For some years the Quakers never were absent from the whipping-post. They
were trying enough, preaching everywhere, and on all occasions, yet never
willing to keep silent when the Puritan preacher held forth; not willing,
even, to keep away from the Puritan meeting. They interrupted these
meetings in most offensive ways, and were promptly whipped. One poor
Quakeress, Lydia Wardwell, "a young tender chaste person," but almost
demented with religious excitement, was taken forcibly from the Ipswich
meeting-house and "tyed to the fence-post of the Tavern," and then sorely
lashed.
The pillory sometimes took the place of the stocks. In enduring this
punishment the culprit stood on a sort of bench, and his head and hands
were confined in holes cut in a hinged or divisible board. Lecture day was
often chosen as the day of punishment; as Hawthorne said, "it was a day of
public shame, the day on which transgressors received their reward of
ignominy." Thus Nicholas Olmstead, sentenced to the pillory in Hartford
"next Lecture day," was "sett on a lytle before the beginning and to stay
on a lytle after the end." In Maryland offenders were "nayled by both
eares to the Pillory, 3 Nailes in each Eare, and the Nailes to be slit
out." Samuel Breck says that in 1771, in Boston, men and women were
constantly seen pilloried, exposed to insults and jeers, and pelted with
filth and garbage.
The 18th of September, 1755, was a great day in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
A negro woman named Phyllis was then and there burned to death--in
punishment for her share in the murder of her master. The diary of a
Boston gentleman still exists which shows us how he passed the day;
cheerfully drinking punch from tavern to tavern, and cheerfully watching
the hanging of the man-murderer and the burning of the woman. The day's
record ends: "Went home, went to bed and slept and woke up very finely
refreshed." Criminals were preached at in public, read their dying
confessions in public, were carted through the streets in open tumbrils,
and were hanged in public. On all those occasions the taverns flowed with
good cheer and merry meetings, for people came for many miles to witness
the interesting sight, and many were the happy reunions of friends.
Another bustling busy day at the tavern was when "vandues" were held
within its walls. Due notice of these "vandues" had been given by posters
displayed in the tavern and village store, and occasionally by scant
newspaper advertisements. These auction sales were rarely of mixed
merchandise, but were of some special goods, such as India cotton stuffs,
foreign books, or boots and shoes. Criminals and paupers were also sold
for terms of service; usually the former were some of the varied tribe of
sneak-thieves which wandered through the country. In one case the human
"lot" offered for sale was a "prygman"--he had, like Autolycus, stolen the
bleaching linen from the grass and hedges.
Another was an habitual fruit and vegetable thief (and he must have been
an extraordinary one to have been noted in a country where fruit and
vegetables on every farm were so freely shared with all passers-by).
Another, an Indian, stole from the lobster and eel pots of his honest
white neighbors. A sheep thief, sold at public auction in Clifford's
Tavern in Dunbarton, New Hampshire, took part in an interesting prologue,
as well as in the main performance, in the shape of a whipping of thirteen
stripes administered to him by the vigorous sheriff. Nevertheless, he
found a purchaser, who took his subdued and sore servant home to his farm
and set him to breaking and hatchelling flax. The convict fell to work as
cheerfully and assiduously as any honest laborer, but when he had cleaned
as much flax as he could carry, he added an unexpected epilogue to this
New England comedy by departing with his dressed flax for parts unknown;
thus proving that he laughs best who laughs last. Though it would seem
that the selectmen of the town, who had been amply paid "damages and
costs" through his sale, and who had also effectually banished a rogue
from their township, might join with him in a mirthful chorus.
[Illustration: Map Pitcher.]
The sale of paupers at the tavern was much more frequent than of
criminals. It was an exhibition of curious contrasts: the prosperous and
thirsty townsmen drinking at the tavern bar, and the forlorn group of
homeless, friendless creatures, usually young children and aged folk,
waiting to be sold to the lowest bidder for a term of feeble service and
meagre keep. The children were known after the sale as "bound boys" and
"bound girls," and much sympathy has been expended in modern books over
the hardness of their lives, and many pathetic stories written of them.
This method was, however, as good a solution of the problem of infant
pauperism as we have yet discovered. The children were removed from
vicious associations in almshouses, and isolated in homes where they had
to work just as the daughters and sons of the household worked. In many
cases they entered childless homes, and grew to be the prop and happiness
of their adopted parents, and the heirs of their little savings. The
auction at the tavern was frankly brutal, but the end accomplished was so
satisfactory that the custom has within a few years been resumed by the
more advanced and thoughtful guardians of paupers in many New England
towns. As for the auction sale of aged and infirm paupers, it is not
wholly a thing of the past. In Lackawanna township in Pike County,
Pennsylvania, paupers still are sold to the lowest bidder. A year ago, in
1899, at Rowland Station in that township the signs were posted, "A Woman
for Sale," and as of old the "vandue" was held at a tavern, one called
Rutan's Hotel. The bar-room was crowded, and Mrs. Elmira Quick,
seventy-seven years old, was put up "to be sold to the lowest bidder for
keep for a year." The bidding was spirited and ran quickly down from four
dollars a week. A backwoodsman had just offered to take her for a dollar
and a half a week, when Mrs. Quick firmly bid a dollar and a quarter. The
Overseer of the Poor hesitated, but Mrs. Quick stated she could maintain
herself on that amount--sixteen cents a day--and no one made an offer to
take her for less; so he was forced to conclude the bargain and draw up
the sale-papers. Let me add that this woman has three sons and a daughter
living--and these are our good _new_ times.