USA > Massachusetts > Plymouth County > Pembroke > Ancient landmarks of Pembroke > Part 9
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In 17/14 Samuel Barker of Sandwiich, Bricklayer, for £500 conveyed to Ephraim Nichols, Cordwainer, "the one moiety or half part of his messuage, farm, tenement, or tract of land both meadow and upland, situate in Pembroke, including two hundred acres more or less :" by a similar deed of the year preceding, he had conveyed an equal holding to Nathaniel Nichols, uncle of Ephraim. The Nichols family were natives of Hingham ; but had now removed to Pembroke, in company with Nathaniel's son-in-law Nehemiah Cushing. For some years they owned in common the dwelling on their estate: Nathaniel held his moiety until his death; but the other half changed hands, with amazing rapidity, among his numerous sons-in-law. In 1722 Ephraim sold to Nathaniel Davis of Taunton, husband of his cousin Rebecca, a half in- terest in the house, well, cellar, and homestead of half an acre. Two years later, Davis transferred this interest to another son-in-law, Captain Nehemiah Cushing, who lived in the Judge Whitman house. Captain Cushing dealt much in real estate: and in the fall of 1725, sold his moiety-together with four acres east of the highway -- to his kinsman Elisha Bisbee ; who took up his residence there. Nathaniel Nichols continued to hold the other moiety until, upon his death in 1732, it passed to Sarah his widow: I find no record of its transfer from her to Elisha Bisbee.
Elisha Bisbee, Esquire, was born in Scituate, 28 February 1687, son of Elisha Bisbee, Junior. His early years were spent in Hingham, whither his father had removed after his marriage to Mary Bacon of that town; but he chose to be his home the village where dwelt his second cousin Nehemiah Cushing. His public service in Pembroke was brief, but distinguished; from 1725 until 1737, he held continuously the post of its representative at the General Court, excepting two years filled by Thomas Barker and Isaac Little, Esquires. While holding that office, he was at one time chairman of the House committee on the important subject of the Governor's salary; when, on account of the interference of the King and his ministers in that matter, the Province was
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much agitated : and he was in 1734 one of those detailed to attend the Governor at his interview with the Cagnawaga and other Indian tribes on its western frontier. In 1735 ill health compelled him to decline service on committees; and it was in spite of great physical infirmity that in 1736 he got through the House a grant to the Town of Pembroke of five hundred acres of Province land, "the better to enable them to keep a grammar school therein." This tract lay in the rich Connecticut valley, including the southern portion of the present town of Northfield: it was long improved by the Town under the title of the "School Farm;" and was finally sold, in 1768, at the now ridiculous price of $2 an асге.
Toward the close of his last spring in Boston, Mr. Bisbee addressed to his wife the following letter, dated 4 June 1736 :-
"My Dear :
These with my love come to let you know that I hope in about ten days to see you; God willing. As to my health, I can say but little about it; but am much as I was. When the weather is very hot I lie by, and when the air is thick I dare not go out, but am as careful as I can. I have got on a stomach plaster again; I hope it is of some service. I shall, I think, bring you some flax and cotton wool; but they are very dear. Flax I cannot have under two shillings and five pence, and take a good quantity. As to sheep's wool, don't neglect to go to John Little, Esq., claim his promise, and tell him you must have what you have occasion for, etc. Give my duty to my mother, my love to my children, sister, and all friends ; which, in haste, is all at present.
From your loving husband, Elisha Bisbee."
The General Court, of which Elisha Bisbee had now been for the last time a member, was dissolved 4 February, 1737; and on the thirteenth day of March following, the "Honest Lawyer" passed away, in the fiftieth year of his age. A
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month later his mother was laid beside him, and this inscription placed above her grave :
"HERE LIES THE BODY OF MRS. MARY BISBEE WIFE TO ELISHA BISBEE OF HINGHAM GENTL DIED APRIL 16, 1737, IN THE 82D YEAR OF HER AGE."
By the division of Elisha Bisbee's estate, the homestead passed to the husband of his daughter Sarah-Daniel Lewis, Esquire, only surviving son of the Reverend Daniel Lewis, first pastor of the First Church in Pembroke. The legislative mantle fell on Daniel, Esquire; who was elected representa- tive for 1737 and 1738, and later for 1744 and 1745. He held the office of town treasurer, 1739-1746; and of town clerk from 1741 until his death in 1759. Town meetings were sometimes held at his house .; and as clerk for 1741, he had the honor of recording there that famous Resolution on Bills of Credit-in whose close of uncompromising yet dignified protest its faulty economics are, to my mind, much more than retrieved-directing the representative of Pem- broke in General Court "at all times firmly to adhere to our Charter Rights and Preveiledges as also to our English Rights Preveiledges and Constitutions any of his Majesty's Royal Instructions to the Contrary Notwithstanding." The Resolution was a product of the Land Bank controversy, the bearing of which upon Plymouth County has been well shown in a recent article by Mr. W. W. Bryant of Brookline. In his discussion of the Bank, Mr. Bryant remarks how severe was the distress occasioned to this town, as compared with neighboring communities, through its unjust and tyrannous suppression by act of Parliament; eight of the inhabitants -- among them so influential a man as Esquire Little-being subscribers. I venture to disagree with his conclusion in thinking that, these circumstances considered, the wise moderation characterizing -- so far as we can learn-Pembroke's policy at such a crisis, is more ad- mirable than the independent spirit which she displayed in
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common with her neighbors; and that both together confer upon her then citizens praiseworthy distinction, if not preeminence, among patriots of the earlier colonial days.
Daniel must have been, on all accounts, an interesting character. His father had graduated from Harvard College in the Class of 1707: "Junior" followed in 1734. Until the year 1773, the members of each class were enrolled on the college register in an order established during freshman year, and based solely upon the respective social rank of their parents. The Class of 1734 numbered twenty-seven men ; in the list of that class, the name of Daniel Lewis stands seventh. Whether he lived up to the traditions of the Four Hundred and the equally proverbial Minister's Son, is not revealed. In later life, he was reputed somewhat of a spendthrift; it was perhaps with the purpose of replenishing his coffers that in 1754 he sold for £100 to Jeremiah Hall of Pembroke, Physician, his dwelling with its lot of half an acre, and four acres beyond the highway, where a barn had by this time been built. From Nehemiah Cushing Dr. Hall purchased a garden next his homestead on the east.
Not himself a native of the Old Colony, he had resided in Hanover since his marriage to Miss Elizabeth Bailey of that town in 1748; and now took up his residence in Pembroke. It was from this house that he went forth to the Old French War, in which he served as a surgeon. In later years, he became a member of the Provincial Congress ; and an officer, with the rank of lieutenant colonel, in the Revolution : his son Jeremiah, a boy of seventeen, died at the siege of Boston "in the Service of his Country, Opposeing the Tyranny of Britain and Britain's Tyrant." Toward the end of his life, he was for a while town clerk and treasurer, and representa- tive at the General Court. Long before this, however, he had in 1761 for £258 disposed of his homestead; and soon removed to a house in North Pembroke, now the home of Hon. Francis P. Arnold.
The new owner was Thomas Turner, Senior, of Pembroke, styled Gentleman. He was a rich shipbuilder, residing in a
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many-windowed mansion near North River, just east of the bridge; whither he had removed from Scituate, in 1737, to establish a shipyard -- still traceable in the point of land making out upon the Pembroke shore two hundred yards or more below the present arch. From the River his estate spread inland, supported by the proceeds of the yard, until he was master of some four hundred acres of farm and forest in what is now northern Pembroke. He married Mary Bryant, eldest daughter of Thomas, Esquire, of Scituate. Of their eight children, Mary married Capt. Seth Hatch of Pembroke; Lucy, Nathaniel Cushing, Esq., of the West Parish; and Mercy, her cousin Philip Turner of Scituate- "King Philip" of the broad acres and the many wives-from whom she was divorced, by an order of the General Court, in 1780. Thomas Turner was, for some years, selectman of Pembroke; and a captain of its militia before, and perhaps during, the Revolution. He was a friend and business associate of John Hancock: a biography of that gentleman preserves notice of his correspondenee with the Captain and Mrs. Turner; but I have not seen the letters. The Turner mansion descended to the second son, Colonel George; is now the residence of Major Trafton; and still contains a secret chamber-built, doubtless, for the accommodation of Captain Thomas's Tory friends.
The Whitman homestead was transferred in 1763 to Thomas Turner, Junior, styled Shipwright; who proceeded to annex several acres on the south owned by Capt. Cushing, and came to live there about 1765. In that year, he was married-by General John Winslow of Acadian fame-to Joanna, eldest daughter of Captain Nathaniel Phillips of Marshfield. Of their three children, Charles and Joanna were born before, and Thomas after, the Revolution. That contest brought troublous times to the Turner household. Although his daughter proved a good patriot, Captain Phil- lips himself remained a stout old royalist undaunted by the threats and insults of his neighbors: he it was who, on one occasion, was sought after by the Sons of Liberty with a coat
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The King's Highway: Washington St., North Pembroke and the Later Home of Dr. Jeremiah Hall
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of tar, and escaped only by having himself ferried over the North River under cloud of night into Scituate. During the earlier years of the war, Thomas Turner, when in Pembroke, acted on the Committee of Correspondence: but from 1775 until 1779, was a captain in the militia or in the Continental Army, and therefore seldom at home; serving at the siege of Boston, and in the midland campaigns.
After the storms of war were past, Captain Turner's public services-like those of many another-were devoted chiefly to furtherance of the herring monopoly: in private life, he won considerable fame as a royal entertainer. The income from his shipyard, and from his landed estate of several hun- dred acres, supplied ample wherewithal; and he understood the noble art of wining and dining as well as another. Neighborhood tradition relates that he numbered among his guests the Governor himself-John Hancock, his junior by two years: his acquaintance with whom-begun, doubtless, through Hancock's relations with his father-the fortunes of war, in occasional meetings between the younger men, may have continued. His house-which, like most others in those days, fronted south-was of a peculiar construction, and afforded in the broad hall extending along its whole western side, a space well suited for the dancing parties which it was his pleasure to give. Diamond-paned windows opened upon a prospect of upland pasture and meadow; at the back, a winding staircase ascended, which bore on its first landing the Turner clock, brought overseas out of England; and opposite the windows glowed the huge open fireplace, where Thomas was wont to busy himself in concocting divers beverages dear to his genial heart. His daughter, Joanna, played the violin-an accomplishment rarer among ladies then than now: and if the village gallants insisted on pro- posing her health until even the good Captain himself, who was no three-bottle man, grew a little merry; I do not find it in my heart to blame them. Her portrait, in riding habit and beaver, painted by Dr. Hathaway of Duxbury, is yet in existence; and shows across the features a curious scar. This
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was the work of an Irish servant of Joanna, then Mrs. Whitman ; who, in some fit of anger, recklessly flung a carv- ing knife at her mistress' effigy.
Charles, the elder son, graduated at Harvard in the Class of 1788, and studied medicine with Dr. Hall. After his marriage in 1789 to Ruth, daughter of Captain Ichabod Thomas, he lived in the old Robert Barker place, where the house of Nathaniel Groce now stands. His career was cut short by an untimely death 9 August, 1804: while riding home through the warm, dark summer night, in an intoxicated condition, he was dashed by his horse against a low-hanging limb, and instantly killed. His house became known to fame as the Morse Tavern-kept by Jabez Morse, who married his widow. Mr. Morse was a man of some education, but so crabbed and difficult to get along with that the stories of him are legion. It is related that he once awakened his wife at midnight on Thanksgiving eve, and the following colloquy resulted :"What pies have you made for Thanksgiving, Mrs. Morse?" -- "Mince, custard, and pumpkin pies, Mr. Morse." -- "What ! no apple pies, Mrs. Morse?"- "None, Mr. Morse."-"Out with ye, then, Mrs. Morse! How in hell do you suppose I am going to eat my Thanksgiving dinner without an apple pie?" When mine host finally hanged himself in the barn, well might Capt. Silas Morton refuse to cut him down in the absence of a magistrate, and Horace Collamore, Esquire, when summoned, insist upon reading aloud the statutes, and sourly remark that he had lived between two nuisances all his life: Jabez Morse had hung himself; and the schoolhouse, too, he was in hopes shortly to get rid of.
Thomas, the younger son, had in youth distinguished himself by emulating General Winslow's exploit, and swim- ming his horse from Duxbury Beach to Powder Point, in order to distance his companions. This was on the eve of one of Captain Thomas's dancing frolics. Later in life, he settled down to shipbuilding, and married Deborah, daughter of Hon. David Stockbridge and Ruth Cushing of Hanover.
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Deacon Seth Whitman 1782-1859
THE DEACON WHITMAN HOMESTEAD
Meanwhile, his grandfather-the elder Captain Thomas-had died at a good old age, in 1795; and his father removed to the house by the river. Their former home was, for some years, occupied by Captain Samuel Webb ; who removed about 1810, and built the house now owned by Mr. Charles Dyer. Thomas Turner died in 1808-hastened to his grave, no doubt, by the disastrous Embargo- - and left it to his daughter Joanna: whose husband, Seth Whitman-in com- pany with her brother, under the firm name of Turner and Whitman-kept a general store in the house now occupied by Dr. MacMillan; residing in the Bigelow house built by Benjamin Whitman. The firm failed. sharing the general ruin brought upon New England's commerce by the Em- bargo; and they removed in 1812 to the homestead in Pembroke, which thenceforth may properly be called a Whitman place.
It was ever the Turner habit to turn our family chronicles in rhyme. The exploit of the third Thomas forms no exception. Having occasioned in its day a deal of comment, it is set down for future generations' perusal in a narrative which fills several sheets with closely written verses, and bears title :
THE BALLAD OF TURNER'S RIDE
Loud boomed the surge on Gurnet strand, Loud shrill'd the night-wind cold; It moaned along the darkling strand And round the tavern old.
Gray skies above, gray earth beneath, Gray ocean circling round,
The graybeard host before his door Stood in the firelight crowned.
With hand on brow he scans the sky, What night its signs forebode ; When forth into the deepening gloom A belted horseman strode.
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A flush was on his shaded brow, A glint in his bold black e'e; He swept at a glance the twilight shore, And called right heartily :
"Ho, goodman ! for the night is come, The sun has left the eastern sea- Then where my steed and saddle gear, And where my comrades three ?
"For we must ride, ere night shall fall, Long way to Pembroke town,
With many a quip its wine to sip And steaming bowl to crown."
Mine ancient host lond laughed and long, And then he spake full plain : "On Gurnet strand seek not the lads, For ye will seek in vain.
"Northward, where slow the sea-fogs steal O'er Marshfield meadows wide,
Free hand on rein, quick spur on heel, Full merrily they ride.
"And they have sworn a merry oath That whoso last comes ben, Such laggard shall the wassail brew For other swifter men.
"Then speed ye blithely toward the town, And spare nor spur nor rein- Though, less some quicker road ye ride, Sure will ye ride in vain !"
Deepens the flush on Turner's brow, And brighter gleams his eye, And "Sith naught else remains," quoth he, "Such road my steed shall try !
"Straight lies the way to Pembroke town, Untrodden and untried-
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Where mortal steed ne'er passed, this night The King and I must ride !
"A champaign broad the harbor lies, The goal full sightly gleams; Yon glittering path our highway marks Where fall the late moonbeams."
He spoke, and round th' impatient steed Drew fast the leathern band;
Looked well to bridle, girth, and curb, With firm and gentle hand :
Then fondled he that haughty head, And strok'd the tossing mane-
When aged hands the bridle seized, And stayed the parting rein.
"Oh, think not, on such errand bent, To leave the firm seashore,
And launch amid the weltering wave While dark the night doth lower !
Full darkly doth the night-rack lower, And chill the mist sweep by ; On windstrown beach and foamy reach The Stormwraith hovers nigh !
"Southward no more in clanging throng The wild-goose wings her way; In snowy drifts against the clifts High leaps the wind-swept spray ;
"Her foamy nest the seagull leaves, And inland speeds on fleeting wing- Then shelter thou 'neath kindly roof Till dawn the light shall bring.
"Let other hands in Pembroke town The wassail brew at eventide :
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And bide thou here till break of morn Upon the lone sea-side !
"Or if ye will not, northward far, Where bow yon hills to meet the bay, And over the marshland sweep the winds That are wet with the salty spray-
"And they moan among the sedges While dark the night shuts down, And pour their curtains of fog and mist O'er the hills and roof-trees brown-
"There aye her swift wheel turning, Thy mother sits, and spins,
And waits thee long, till in the east The morrow morn begins."
Nor more he spoke : or, if he spake, Naught else did Turner hear ;
Gave never a word, and sprung to horse, And swept the bridle clear.
The aged hands were brushed aside, He shook the hanging rein- On Gurnet strand no more that night Might he set foot again.
Mine ancient host looks after him, To follow him were fain : "No more on Gurnet strand, I ween, Shall he set foot again."
They two along the shelving sands 'Mid gathering darkness fled : He watched them -- half in eagerness ; He watched them half in dread.
They reach'd the point, they reach'd the strand, Stood fast upon the shore ; And then they paused a little space, And scanned the crossing o'er. -
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The moon was sunk; the hanging tide Hovered 'twixt ebb and flow; The long swells rose upon the beach With plashing soft and low.
The plunge is ta'en ! the gallant steed Full bravely stems the tide ; The quick foam curls against his breast, And flecks his heaving side.
Oh, strong the surges rose beneath And smote on them amain !
And thrice they falter from the course, And thrice the course regain.
For nearer still, and still more near, Across the heaving flood, Rise up the white bluffs of the shore- The blackness of the wood;
And nearer still, 'mid fogsmoke white, The dark pines loom before : Till through the yearning breakers safe They win the firm seashore.
Then down to earth leaped Turner, And clasp'd his quivering steed, And blest the spirit that faileth not In the hour of his master's need.
Meanwhile, along the northern road, By the shore of the northern sea, Through the chill dusk of the autumn wood Sped fast the gallants three.
O'er hill and dale and fog-brimm'd vale And meadows deep in dew, With many a shout and sportive jest Spurr'd sharp the merry crew.
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Ever and anon, on some bold hill, With bated breath they stand, To hear the ring of steel on the bridge Or the thud of hoofs on the hard sea-sand :
They heard the boom of the ocean surf, And the shrill of frogs in the marshes wide ; And a vague unrest pluck'd at their hearts, And quickened their horses' stride.
Slow lags the pace, when at the last Through the ancient streets they wind ;
What skills it, sooth, to lead the race When the goal lies many a mile behind?
The light streams forth from the mansion door- What may this bustle and din betide ?
The feast is set, the tankards wet, And Turner nods by the warm fireside!
"Now bring to me a pint of wine !"- They pledged him deep and strong ;
Whilst brimming cups and merry jest The genial night prolong.
And still, through many a fleeting year, In the olden towns by the northern sea,
When rings the roar of the Gurnet surf And winter winds sweep o'er the lea,
And the lads and lasses throng at dusk Where old wives knit by the red fireside, With many a murmur of fond regret, They tell the story of Turner's ride.
Seth Whitman was the son of Seth Whitman and Eunice Bass of Bridgewater. His father died at twenty-nine years : and his mother married Peter Salmond of Pembroke. Their son Peter used to query, "My father was a Salmon and my mother was a Bass, now what kind of fish am I?" He and
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Seth grew up on the banks of the Herring Brook; pelting the Indians with rotten apples, and enjoying to the full its other diversions as in these pages related. Seth was educat- ed in Boston, and became a skilled accountant. He was town clerk, 1820-1841; treasurer, 1824-1832; representative at General Court in 1837; and deacon of the First Church from 1819 until his death in 1859. This was hastened by his attendance at the March Town meeting for that year, whence he returned a broken man. He was succeeded as deacon by his son Seth; whose decease, occurring in 1891, concluded a seventy-two years' tenure of that office among the Whitmans. Their homestead passed to the youngest son, Thomas Turner.
Meanwhile, in 1837, the old house was taken down, and the present built upon its site. The ancient ell next the street remained unchanged, except in position; and in its easterly room Deacon Seth kept the Postoffice. In the con- struction of his new dwelling parts of the second meeting house were used, and until recently could be seen in its kitchen fine panel work from the Turner pew. The old fashion of setting house and barn a half mile distant from each other, was fast becoming obsolete; and accordingly, about 1850, the latter structure was moved across the road. Thomas Turner Whitman was a carpenter by trade; and is responsible for the building of this house, as for that of many another in town. "He made good houses," an old friend of his once said to me. He became "Uncle Tom" to this Northern village: and it was a name used lovingly by all his acquaintance. His first wife was Rebecca, daughter of Elisha Barker ; his second, Jane Thomas, daughter of Eden Sprague Sampson of Duxbury. Of his children, John Turner removed to Winthrop: Alice married in 1885 Edwin P. Litchfield, a native of Hanover; who, upon Mr. Whitman's death in 1890, succeeded to the estate, and was a selectman of Pemboke for some years. Mrs. Whitman dwelt on the homestead until her death, which occurred 12 November, 1906 ; with her, the once common name of Whitman became in Pembroke a memory and no more.
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She was my grandmother; and had her hand but written what her lips told, this Landmark -- like many of the others -would rightly have borne her name. Her stories of Pem- broke and her native town of Duxbury were inexhaustible; it has seemed to me that few could tell stories so well as she -- I think the secret is that she enjoyed them as much as we did. When I began these papers she was still living. How often since her death have I found a blank in their annals, and started to go to her room in the east corner: believing that I must find her there ready, as ever of old, to sit down in her rocking-chair by the window, and tell me strange tales of the Deacon and Uncle Peter and Grandmother Turner ; while buttonwood leaves rustled in the yard without, and the au- tumn wind sighed through Cap'n Tom's old orchard of high- top sweetings beyond the road.
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