USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Newbury > Reminiscences of a nonagenarian > Part 33
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The streets of Newburyport, though greatly improved, were often unprovid- ed with gravelled sidewalks. There were but few pavements, and those principally before some of the larger mansions. The bricks were usually laid side up, some presenting a zig-zag or herring bone pattern.
Prior to 1800 the town commenced to plant shade trees. Lombardy pop- lars were a favorite avenue tree. The Boston turnpike had a row on either side as far out as "Old Maid's Hall," and it was common to see three of these stiff trees before a house, tower- ing sentinel like on the edge of the side- walk.
On Merrimac street nearly opposite Broad, is an ancient house which was formerly a noted inn, knownas "Spauld-
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ing's Tavern." The Stone house, on a farm near the Upper Green, Oldtown, is another very ancient mansion. This farm was first owned by Mr. John Spencer, who sold it to Capt. Daniel Pierce. Capt. Pierce erected a dwell- ing of stone, after the style of an old English manor house. This was the girlhood home of Martha Pierce, the mother of my great grandfather John- son. Afterwards the place was owned by Mr. Nathaniel Tracy, whose family resided there some years ; it next he- came the property of Capt. Offin Board- man, who built the wooden wing at the upper end of the house, and the L in the rear. Capt. Boardman sold the es- tate to Mr. John Pettingel, and at the time of which I am writing, it was known by the name of the Pettingel Farm. At one time this house, on ac- count of its safety, was the depot for the town's powder. One of Mr. Pierce's negro slaves, having placed a lighted candle in a keg of powder, blew out one side of the house, and much to her consternation lodged herself amongst the limbs of a large apple tree. There are many legends connected with this antique dwelling, which, if its walls could speak, would many a tale unfold. There is a tradition that in the early days, the males being absent, an Indian who came with evil intent, was forced by the females of the family into a chest in the cellar, where his earthly career soon closed, and that thereafter his shade haunted the spot.
Another ancient family residence is situated in the "Farms District," New- bury. The place originally belonged to John Hull, who died in 1670. At his decease it was purchased by John, old- est son of Mr. Nicholas Noyes, who built the house soon after. The home-
stead has descended from father to son to the sixth generation. John's son and grandson were both named Daniel. Maj. Samuel Noyes and his son Samuel to Luther, his fourth son. The seventh generation are in his family, and two of the eighth have been born there. The house, a substantial edifice, was built in a style unusual for a farmhouse in those early days. The front hall is wainscotted, and a handsome staircase, with the elaborately carved balusters then fashionable for the first-class man- sions, leads to the second story. The kitchen fireplace has been reconstructed, but when built it was huge even for the period ; an ox could easily have been roasted whole in its capacious recess. This house has been the birthplace of several clergymen, physicians, and oth- er distinguished persons. Dr. Daniel Poore's mother was one of the daugh- ters of the family ; her son was named for his grandfather, Daniel Noyes. On this Noyes farm is located one of the most promising of the newly discovered Newbury mines.
CHAPTER XLIX.
In the autumn of 1810 Mrs. Moses Colman was taken ill of a slow fever. As she would have no one but Sallie to nurse her, I remained in Byfield several weeks. During this time the house- hold were troubled by a series of mys- terions and untoward events. Mr. Colman missed a ten dollar bill from his desk drawer in a remarkable man- ner, the hens quitted laying, a cask of choice cider that had never been tapped was found empty, and Jerry's
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fine parade horse which was at pasture on the farm, presented a low and jaded condition. Jeremiah Colman and Da- vid Emery had been for some time offi- cers in the troop. At that time Jerry was captain and David first lieutenant of one of the companies forming the regiment of cavalry. "What could have happened to Jerry's horse !" His father said "he looked sorry." At this juncture, Charles Field, the colored boy brought up in the family, now a youth of twenty, evinced great religious concern. His state was such that Dr. Parish was requested to visit him. The keen witted clergyman, after convers- ing with Charles, avowed lack of faith in his professions. "He had seen his mother in such states. It was his opin- ion that this show of piety was to cover some rascality. He had said as much to the fellow, and bade him ease his soul by confession, and by making every restitution possible." The next day to my surprise, I discovered the missing 'bank note in Mrs. Colman's cap box. It was immediately ascertained that Charles had for weeks been riding the parade horse to Newburyport, a series of dances having been held in Guinea which he had attended. Having hid- den his Sunday suit in the hay mow, after the family had retired he stole out, dressing himself in the barn, saddled and bridled the horse, which had been stealthily brought up from pasture in the evening, using the military equip- ments, then dashed down to Guinea in grand style, exciting the envy of his brother beaux, and the great admira- tion of the sable belles. The ten dollar bill was taken to exhibit his grandeur and that of the family. On moving the cider cask, preparatory to its being re- filled the straws with which its contents
had been sucked from the bung were found with a heap of egg shells, which explained the former scarcity of eggs. Charles was brought to confess his mis- deeds, with many professions of sorrow and promises of amendment. Such was the affection felt for one reared in the family from infancy, that he found a ready forgiveness.
A short time after my return from Byfield I was summoned to town. Col. Bartlett had at length succumbed to the disease that had threatened for many years ; he was in a confirmed con- sumption, confined to his chamber, and most of the time to his bed.
Four years before, my aunt, who was childless, had adopted a little girl, and as she was wholly devoted to her hus- band, the care of this child and the su- perintendence of the house devolved upon me. These were sad but busy days. Mr. Benjamin Hale was acting stage agent for Col. Bartlett ; he came every morning for orders, and through the day there were more or less callers concerned for one who was a general favorite. During the past year alarms of fire had been frequent ; it was evident some person of evil intent was plotting mischief. The citizens had become watchful and solicitons. The stable, where the next spring the fire com- menced, had been set on fire two or three times, but the flames had been ex- tinguished without an alarm. David Emery prevented one conflagration with a bushel measure of water ; he had led his horse to Mr. George's shop, and was waiting for the men to come from dinner to shoe him. The street was quiet. David tied his horse and sat down to wait ; at that instant he descried smoke issuing from the window of the stable opposite. Springing up, he caught
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a bushel measure that stood by the pump, and filling it ran to the loft. The chamber was empty with the excep- tion of one corner, where a heap of the hay chaff had been seraped together which was burning briskly. Mr. Em- ery dashed on the water in the measure, which sufficed to quench the flames.
In February the incendiary was more successful. One evening in that month, Mr. Gilman White's erockery store on State street was burned. About nine o'clock the bells gave the alarm. Iran to the front door to ascertain the loca- tion of the fire. As the latch was lift- ed I was confronted by David Emery ; he bore one child in his arms and held another by the hand. "Here, Sally," he hurriedly exclaimed, giving me the infant, "these are Ann and Charles Stetson. Gilman White's store is ablaze, and Mrs. Stetson has gone to Topsfield. Prince has sent the ehil- dren to you." I took them into the sitting-room, while Mr. Emery hurried away. Little Charles did not wake ; the girl brought Eliza Bartlett's cradle, at which that young miss, wakened by the hubbub, made a great ado; but I. managed to lay the infant down still sleeping. Having sileneed Eliza, I placed Ann Stetson, a quiet, pleasant child, in my bed. The fire was con- fined to Mr. White's store. Soon after' midnight Mr. Stetson came and took Charles home, but Ann remained till her mother's return.
The third of May, the first circus that ever visited Newburyport came into town ; an Italian troop, Messrs. Caye- tano & Co. A board pavilion was erected in an unoccupied lot between Pleasant and Harris streets ; this was furnished with seats in the pit, which surrounded the ring ; above was a gal-
lery, with boxes comprising the dress cirele. There was a stand for musi- cians. The exhibitions were on Mon- day, Wednesday and Friday afternoons ; the doors opened at half-past three ; the performance commenced at half-past four. Tickets to the boxes were one dollar ; to the pit fifty cents ; children under ten years of age half price. This was a most respectable and fine looking company, their horses were splendid animals, all the appurtenances in the best style. The performance com- menced by the "Grand Military Man- œuvres by Eight Riders." As the com- pany furnished but six, upon their ar- rival at the Wolfe Tavern they applied to Mr. Stetson to fill the cortege. He referred Cayetano to Samuel Shaw and David Emery, as two of the best mili- tary riders in the place. These gentle- men hesitated respecting joining such a show, but by the solicitation of friends their seruples were overruled. The matter was kept secret; only a select few knew of their intention, and the uniform would prove a perfeet disguise. . Col. Bartlett was so feeble, I hesitated with regard to accepting Mr. Emery's invitation to the circus, but my uncle insisted upon my going, "he was curi- ous to hear about it, wished he could see Sam and David ride, he knew they could sit their horses with the best of them." My plans came near being re- versed, through the conversation of a band of eallers on the morning prior to the Wednesday afternoon performance, which I had engaged to attend. Little suspecting that I had any special inter- est in the play, these pious women in- voked the wrath of Heaven, and its most awful judgments upon the com- pany and all who should patronize them. "A mean, low set of foreigners,
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their presence was a disgrace to the town; they wondered the selectmen should grant them a permit. No one of the least respectability would think of showing themselves in such a place as this circus." Abashed, I reported to Uncle Bartlett. He declared the talk all nonsense, and bade me go. Finding that my Uncle Peabody and Sophronia were going and that most of the elite had purchased tickets, I ven- tured to dress for the occasion. Mr. Emery escorted me to a private en- trance on Harris street, where we joined Mr. and Mrs. Shaw. The gentlemen having conducted us to a box, went to don their uniform. We were soon joined by General Peabody and his daughter, and Dr. Prescott and his daughters. Col. Greenleaf occupied the next box. I soon espied Mr Mo- ses Colman and his son Jerry in the pit, and as seat after seat and box after box filled with the wisdom, wit, beauty and fashion of the town and vicinity, I leaned back in my seat, satisfied with · my company, and glad that to please my unele and David I had not been over scrupulous.
This was prior to the formation of brass bands. The music consisted of some half dozen performers on the bu- gle, clarionet, bass-viol and violin. Various airs had been played while the audience were gathering. As the mo- ment arrived for the performance to commence, at a bugle call, in dashed the eight horsemen, in a showy uni- form in single file ; they rushed around the ring, then followed a series of splen- did feats of horsemanship and military tactics. I do not think I should have known either Mr. Shaw or Mr. Emery had they not given a little private sig- nal. They did themselves great credit,
rode better even than the trained eques- trians. Cayetano was highly delighted, and was most profuse in his encomiums and compliments. The military exer- eise over, Master Tatnal performed several gymnastic feats. He was fol- lowed by Master Duffee, a negro lad, who drew down the house by feats of agility, leaping over a whip and hoop. Mr. Codet signalized himself in feats of horsemanship. Mr. Menial, the clown, amused the audience by buffoonery and horsemanship. Mr. Cayetano execut- ed on two horses the laughable farce of the "Fish woman, or the Metamorpho- sis." With a foot on each horse he rode forward, habited as an immensely fat fishwoman, in a huge bonnet and un- couth garments. Riding rapidly round the ring he divested himself of this and several other suits, ending in making his final bow as an elegant cavalier. The young African next performed feats of horsemanship and vaulting, danced a hornpipe, and other figures, ending by dashing round the ring, standing on the tips of his toes. The horse, Oce- let, posted himself in various attitudes, danced and took a collation with the clown. Mr. Cayetano performed the Candian Peasant, and feats of horse- manship with hoops, hat and glove, ter- minating by the leap of the four rib- bons separated and together. Mr. Cayetano performed the pyramid, young Duffee on his shoulders as "Flying Mercury." Then came the Trampoleon exercise by Messrs. Menial, Codet, and the young African ; somersets over men's heads and a leap over six horses. The next scene was the Pedestal; the horse of knowledge posted in different attitudes. The performances conclud- ed with the Taylor riding to Water- ford upon the unequalled horse Zebra,
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by Mr. Menial, the clown. This was a most laughable farce, Zebra being a Jack trained to the part. This elicited a storm of applause, and the play ended with cheer after cheer. The circus gave universal satisfaction, and from Newburyport they went to Exeter, in- tending to make an Eastern tour.
CHAPTER L.
"There is a destiny that shapes our ends, Rough bew them as we will."
The memorable Friday evening, the thirty-first of May, 1811, the sun set in unclouded splendor, gilding the church spires, and gleaming upon tree tops, window panes, and the masts of the little fleet anchored at the wharves up and down the river. For the last time its rays illumined the ancient town ; when it sank behind the western heights it bade a final adieu to many an antique landmark and to many a goodly heri- tage. The last lingering gleam died away from the old "port," which henceforth would only be known in tra- dition and song. For the last time busy feet trod those long lines of lofty warehouses ; carts and drays rattled up and down the wharves; the evening stage coaches dashed up to the Old Wolfe tavern ; merchant and artisan turned the key, and wended their way homeward ; the tea urn steamed on the luxurious board in stately mansions, and the more frugal supper was served in the dwellings of the mechanic and la- borer. Little did they reck that ere another day should dawn, each would be reduced to a perfect equality, alike homeless and penniless. That the old town of the primeval settlers and of
Revolutionary fame would have passed into oblivion, that one period had end- ed, that henceforth a new town was to arise, a new order of things to be insti- tuted, new customs and business to be established, new men and measures to be represented ; but the old town of Newburyport, with its commerce, its prestige and aristocratic splendor had gone forevermore.
As home duties claimed my presence I returned to "Crane Neck" the last week in May. The night of the thirty- first, the family, with the exception of my mother and myself, retired at nine o'clock. We were sitting by the smould- ering fire, sadly talking over my winter's experience, when a knock came upon the back door. Surprised, I rose, and drawing aside the fastening, opened it upon William Thurrell, who hastily ex- claimed, "Sallie, Newburyport is on fire." Repeating his words to mother, I ran to the eastern end of the house, and throwing open the door, I stood transfixed. It was then only half-past nine, andit was so light that at that dis- tance I could have read fine print.
The family and neighborhood were aroused ; the young men saddled their horses or harnessed teams, and hurried to town. The others watched and moaned in a helpless anguish nearly bor- dering on despair. The house soon be- came thronged. People came from miles back, to the hill. We had a good glass, and from the range of the Pleas- ant street church steeple, which we mo- mentarily expected to see enveloped in flames,'saw that the fire was still below the residences of Gen. Peabody and Col. Bartlett, but we knew that much of their property must be burned, with that of other relatives and friends. Re- calling David Emery's activity, courage,
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and self-forgetfulness, I knew that he would rush into the thickest of the fight waged against the devouring ele- ment, and I could not but feel anxious for his safety. It was a fearful, a ter- rible night. If I could have been on the spot, could have but a helping hand ! -- but to be thus compelled to gaze in inactivity was horrible. All night long the flames swelled and surged, with a roar like that of the distant sea. Towards morning came the sound of explosions, when great pillars of smoke, flame and sparks, would spring up towards the sky. By sunrise the fire had become subdued ; but a dense smoke veiled all the intervening space, and the sun came up the heavens red and lowery, its rays obscured by the dense atmosphere.
Some of the neighbors came home in the morning, but my uncle, Ben Little, and my brother James remained through the day. It was evening ere we learned the full extent of the great fire. This conflagration commenced soon after the ringing of the nine o'clock bell, in the unoccupied stable in Mechanics' Row, Inn street, in which the former incen- diary attempts had been made.
It was a pleasant moonlight evening, and probably over a hundred persons were walking the streets in the vicinity. Suddenly a tall spire of flame shot up into the sky, and in an instant the whole neighborhood was aglow. No rain had fallen for several weeks; a brisk westerly wind was blowing, which threw the flames directly upon some of the principal stores. The alarms of fire had of late been so frequent that the fire department were unusually efficient. There were three or four as good hand engines as could be purchased, worked by willing and sturdy hands, and sev-
eral fire companies in perfect organiza- tion, each member of which was sup- plied with two leathern buckets, and a knapsack containing two canvas bags, of the capacity of four bushels each, for the removal of clothing and bedding. The buckets were painted green, with the owner's name inscribed within a gilt scroll on the side ; the name was also stamped upon the knapsack and bags. The rules of these societies required the apparatus to be hung in the front entry of the owner's residence, and once a month members were detailed to exam- ine into their efficiency.
In addition wardens were appointed. who, armed with long poles, ordered and directed at a fire. There were also ladders placed at frequent intervals about the town, hung upon a fence or building, protected from the weather by a board nailed slant-wise above it. The bells rang the alarm, but before a stream of water could be brought the stable was enveloped in flames, which in an incred- ibly short time consumed the two un- improved stables, the tavern and gro- cery of Joseph Jackman, Mr. Nathan Follansbee's grocery store, and a dwell- ing house belonging to Mr. Matthew Perkins on Inn street. Notwithstand- ing the fire department in full ranks worked with the energy of twice their force, aided by every exertion of the citizens, the flames could not be sub- dued, but soon swept down to the mar- ket, thence to State street. Every one rushed to the rescue ; long lines were formed to pass water; the high bred lady stood side by side with her ser- vants, and humbler neighbors ; all dis- tinction of cast, age or sex, was lost in this vortex of misery and terror. As- sistance came from Newbury, Ames- bury, Salisbury, Rowley, Ipswich, Dan-
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vers, Beverly, Haverhill, Topsfield, Bradford, and towns across the river in New Hampshire. Engines were brought from Salem and some other towns, but the flames spread in such various direc- tions as to baffle all exertions to subdue it. In a few hours it prostrated every building on the north side of State street, from Pleasant street to Market square, and on the opposite side from Essex street. It proceeded into Essex street on the northeast side to the house of Capt. James Kettell, where it was checked ; into Middle street as far as Fair street, on the northeast side, and a few rods there on the southwest side into Liberty, within one house of Inde- pendent, and down Water street as far as Hudson's wharf, sweeping off every building within the circle. The whole of Centre street was laid in ashes, and the whole row of buildings in Mer- chants' Row on Ferry wharf; all the stores on the wharves between the mar- ket and Marquand's wharf, including the latter. This cleared about sixteen and a half acres, in the most compact and wealthiest part of the town. Nearly two hundred and fifty buildings were burnt, most of which were stores and dwelling houses. Upwards of ninety families were rendered homeless ; near- ly every dry goods store was burned, four printing offices-the whole num- ber, including the Herald office, the cus- tom house, the surveyor's office, the post office, two insurance offices-the Union and Phenix, the Baptist meeting- house, four attorneys' offices, four book stores, the loss in one of which was $30,000, and also the town library.
Blunt's Building and Phenix Building for a time presented a barrier to the destructive element, and hopes were entertained that they would be saved,
but by a sudden change in the wind the flames were carried directly upon these immense piles. State street at this time presented a spectacle most terribly sublime, the flames meeting in an arch across it. The wind increased in strength, and it was seen that the new brick Baptist meeting-house on Liberty street was doomed. This was full of goods and furniture, deposited there as a place of undoubted safety at the com- mencement of the fire.
At two o'clock the fire raged in every direction. The authorities commenced to blow up and tear down the buildings in its path. About four o'clock the danger diminished, and at six the fire had in a great degree spent its fury.
The scene during the night was most terrible. The moon gradually became obscured and at length disappeared in the thick cloud of smoke which shroud- ed the atmosphere. The glare of light was intense, and the heat that of a sul- try summer noon. The streets were thronged with those whose dwellings were consumed, conveying the remains of their property to places of safety. Every kind of a vehicle was pressed into this service, from a hand barrow to a stage coach.
"The incessant crash of falling build- ings, the roaring of chimneys like dis- tant thunder, the flames ascending in curling volumes from a vast extent of ruins, the air filled with a shower of fire, and the feathered throng fluttering over their wonted retreats, and drop- ping into the flames, the lowing of the cows, and the confused noise of exer- tion and distress, united to impress the mind with the most awful sensations."
I copy the description of Elder John Peak, the pastor of the Baptist society, whose church and dwelling with part of
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his furniture and clothing were bruned. He writes, "I saw the roof of our meet- ing-house tumbling in, leaving the brick walls principally standing. But what an awful sight ! Bright flames ascend- ing to a great height ; explosions of powder, spirits, etc. ; vast columns of cinders and flames ascending in quick succession to the clouds ; a dense smoke ascending from the burning of tar, rosin, pitch, etc., formed thick clouds which spread over all in awful majesty. The roaring of the flames, accompanied with wind, the sound of the trumpets and voices of the firemen, the crash of buildings, the cry of the sufferers for help to secure their goods, and the in- creasing progress of the conflagration, altogether, was the most appalling scene I ever witnessed."
Much household furniture and cloth- ing was burned that might have been saved at the commencement of the fire, had this not have been at such a dis- tance that many whose houses were de- stroyed never suspected danger till too late ; so swift was the destruction, and so meagre the means of transportation, that loss was unavoidable.
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