USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. II > Part 14
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one of Moses Brown's letters to Palfrey con- cerning Polly fell into Miss Cazneau's hands and was opened and read by her with true feminine curiosity. Palfrey nearly lost his second sweetheart as a result, but the matter blew over. The final letter to Moses Brown, written late in April, was a real ex- planation and showed Polly to be a rather foolish coquette. Palfrey wrote "Polly told my friend Flagg Last Evening that she thought it would have looked odd for a young Lady to say Yes so soon and that if there was any misunderstanding between us, she was very sorry for it." Foolish Polly! She revealed herself too late, for Palfrey was truly a man of honor and held to his engagement to Miss Cazneau. He did, how- ever, remark further on in his letter to Moses Brown, "I am sorry I was not ac- quainted with her temper and disposition before, as it would have prevented all that has happened."
Yet Polly did not go to Boston in vain, for, in 1764, the Providence Gazette and Country Journal announced her marriage to a Mr. Thomas Greene of Boston, de- scribing her as a "young lady" of "real merit" and one fitted "to grace the con- nubial state and perpetuate its felicity." Moses Brown, too was married that year to his cousin, Nancy Brown, but it was a year afterwards that Palfrey married Miss Caz- neau. During the Revolution he was a mem- ber of Washington's personal staff, the Pay- master - General of all the Continental Troops, resigning finally to become Consul- General to France. In 1780 he sailed out of Delaware Bay, on the "Shillala" to fill his last appointment, but neither he nor the ship were ever heard of again.
SAMUEL CASEY, SILVERSMITH
TT Is strange that a sparsely-settled area of old-time Rhode Island farming coun- try should have supported a good many silversmiths, but fully a half-dozen or more followers of this noble and time-honored craft found they could make at least a partial living in the region about the vil- lage of Little Rest in South Kingston. Newport and Providence were nominally the places for this type of craftsmen, yet
the silversmiths of Little Rest achieved quite a portion of fame for themselves. John Waite, Joseph Perkins, Gideon Casey, Nathaniel Helme-all these were well known in 18th century Rhode Island, but the master craftsman of them all was Samuel Casey. And the tale of his life as told by William Davis Miller is exception- ally interesting. It was he who was said to be the grandson of the sole survivor of the
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Irish Massacre in Ulster County, Ireland, in 1641. This lucky survivor, Thomas Casey, came to Newport in about 1658; and it was in Newport that the grandson, Sam- uel, was born, although the date of 1724 (like many other things about his colorful career) is doubtful.
At any rate we find the father, Samuel Casey, Senior, moved and settled in North Kingston in 1734. Then, sixteen years later, we find Samuel Casey, Junior, named in the deed to a piece of land which he had pur- chased from Caleb Gardiner in Exeter as "Samuel Casey, Junr. of Exeter-silver- smith." This was in 1750, and what had happened previously in Samuel Casey's twenty-six years of growing up we do not know. Presumably he had learned his trade in Newport for there there were opportuni- ties enough.
The land Casey purchased was a small plot of four acres, situated at the cross- roads known as Curtis Corners, about two miles south of the village of Little Rest. There was a house and barn on the lot, and, in 1753, Samuel sold a half interest to his brother, Gideon, and took him as a partner in the business of silversmithing. Gideon was never the craftsman that his brother was, and it was Samuel whose silver tankards and teapots made him renowned first through all Narragansett, then through- out the Colony itself, and finally in many of the neighboring districts outside the Colony. Specimens of his truly lovely and delicate engraving (extremely valuable to- day) were to be found even in New York; and when the students of Yale College wanted a special silver tankard to present to Ezra Stiles at the termination of his Tutorship in 1755, they came to Samuel Casey. The Narragansett planters' families made up his best clientele, but their pat- ronage was not enough to keep this silver- smith in the straight and narrow path, as we shall soon see. If he had only gone to Newport and set up a workshop, he prob- ably would have reached great fame and maybe kept out of a lot of trouble. There he might have found close rivals but surely no superiors, for his spoons, tongs, tea- pots, cups, tankards, and other pieces of silver service would have matched up well with the best that the Colonial Period pro- duced.
For some ten years Samuel Casey kept his brother as a partner, finally re-buying his share when the latter left to settle in Warwick. In the following year came Samuel's first disaster. Misfortune over- took him, and his shop and house burned down. The notice in the papers of the time read: "the very valuable Dwelling-House of Mr. Samuel Casey ... unhappily took fire, and was Entirely consumed with a great Quantity of rich Furniture. The whole Loss, 't is said, amounts to near Five Thousands Pounds, Lawful Money." This was a great deal of money for those frugal days and is a good estimate of Samuel's success up to that time.
The unfortunate craftsman soon set up a new shop in the garret of Helme House, a large gambrel-roofed building which was probably the most imposing in the com- munity. Here he did all his work up to the day when he was forced to leave Rhode Island for safer parts elsewhere. Evidently the returns from the legitimate business of silversmithing were not sufficient to meet the needs of Samuel Casey, or perhaps he was trying to retrieve his recent loss quickly, for it was in the garret of Helme House that he began what the records of the time call "Money-making."
Perhaps he was not the instigator of the idea, for he was not alone in the illegal enterprise. He was approached first by several men of South Kingston and nearby townships, especially by one Noah Colton. They "agreed and contrived to make counterfeit Dollars and for that Purpose provided themselves with a Set of Tools and instruments." Soon quite a system was in operation.
The first die was for making moedores and was supplied by "Uzariah Philips of Smithfield in Providence." (Moedores were Portuguese gold coins, valued at £1 16s, and in common use in Rhode Is- land.) Philips sent word to Casey that he could find the die in a "stoneheap" in Casey's Meadow. But this die "not being well made they laid it by and used it no more." Dies for the more common Spanish milled dollars were brought to Casey's house by Samuel Willson of Tower Hill.
Sometimes Casey made up his own metal; on other occasions he received blanks in the shape of dollars from secret agents. A.
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man named Corning "carried to Samuel Casey a number of Dolar Blanks which were made by William Reynolds." In one instance Joseph Babcock came to Casey and told him that "in a certain Place in the Declarants great Chamber (where they had before placed counterfeit and true money) he would find something in a rag belonging to a Friend which wanted his Assistance." When Casey looked in the designated place, he found six or eight "pieces of base Metal the shape and size of Spanish Milled Dollars, and he took and milled and stamped and returned them to the same place." Soon after he had told Babcock what he had done, he went to the place to see if the counterfeit money was still there, but, as he probably expected, found it gone.
Casey got about 300 Spanish milled dol- lars and 40 half Johannes made before he was caught. (Johannes and half-johannes were also Portuguese coins, which had values of £2 8 s. and £1 4 s. respectively, and which were known in the Colony as "joe" and "half joe.") He knew in advance that his game was up and told his cousin, Gideon, who had been helping him, to take all the tools and dies and throw them "into a sunken Swamp on Caleb Gardiner's Ground where they Cannot be found." But one die for a Spanish milled dollar was overlooked in cleaning out the garret of Helme House and was found many years later.
On July 11, 1770, Samuel Casey was hailed before the Justices of Peace (among them, as Chief Justice, Stephen Hopkins) at Newport and examined by them on a charge that in 1768 he had made and passed Spanish Milled Dollars and other coins. He declined to admit that he had passed them, saying he had given them to Colton, William Corning, and Thomas Clarke. After this examination he was com- mitted to the King's County Jail at Little Rest and soon indicted by the Grand Jury because "he, on the third Day of November in the nineth year of his Said Majesty's Reign A.D. 1768 ... did forge & Counter- feit Ten Peaces of Copper and other mixed
Metals to the Likeness & Similitude of the Good money Called Spanish Milled Dol- lars, Being Foreign Coin then and Ever since Current in this Colony, which act of the said Samuel Casey is Felony."
At the trial Casey pled "Not guilty" and the jury returned the same verdict, but "the Court being Dissatisfied with the verdict sent the Jury out again." This time the jury returned the verdict that if Casey's confession at his examination in Newport, together with some other circumstantial evi- dence, seemed to the court to be lawful evi- dence against the prisoner, then they the jury would declare him guilty. The court quickly decided on Casey's guilt and sentenced him to be hanged in November, 1770. He was then returned to prison to await his execution.
But Casey had friends who were neither idle nor afraid. On the night of November 3, 1770, "a considerable Number of Peo- ple riotously assembled in King's County, and with their Faces blacked proceeded to his Majesty's Goal, there, the outer door of which they broke open with Iron-Bars and Pick-Axes; they then violently entered the Goal, broke every Lock therein and set at Liberty sundry Criminals, lately con- victed of Money-making, one of whom (Samuel Casey) was under Sentence of Death." William Reynolds, Thomas Clarke, and Elisha Reynolds were others released at the same time, but they had had lighter sentences-fines, whipping, and the pil- lory.
The Assembly immediately offered £50 reward for any information about the prisoners or about those who had broken into the jail, but, as in the famous "Gas- pee" affair, many knew but no one talked. An additional £50 was offered specially for Samuel Casey, but he had vanished com- pletely. Where he went, whether he con- tinued in some other colony as a silver- smith or counterfeiter, and where and when he died, some of his old and close friends might have known. But we do not, and we must take a last sight of him, or rather "his coat tails," as he dashed off on horseback that memorable night riding "westward."
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A REMARKABLE JOURNEY
T THE time of the "Journey" was around . April 26th, 1775, therefore much water had flowed by Namquit Point since that amazing dawn of June 10th, 1772, when the King's armed schooner "Gaspee" burned to the water's edge and then blew up.
In all the three years since that event, it is said, although Governor Wanton had promptly offered a reward of $500.00 for the apprehension of the men who had done the deed, and although the King of Eng- land had offered $5,000.00 for the appre- hension of the leader of the expedition and $2,500.00 for any one of the "common of- fenders, there was none within the limits of our State poor enough to be bribed, mean enough to be bought, or cowardly enough to be frightened into a betrayal of the brave men who struck the first blow in the great struggle for freedom which had to be fought."
After so long a time, therefore, without detection by his Majesty's servants, John Brown, middle-aged by now, sailing along in one of the Brown-owned vessels carry- ing flour to Providence, might well have had other matters in mind than that of his own personal safety on this 22nd day of April, 1775.
There had been other incidents in Rhode Island in these three years, of course. In the February following the burning of the "Gaspee," three hundred pounds of good tea had been burned in Market Square. Moses Brown had nothing to do with the destruction of the tea-he simply vowed never again to taste the herb, a vow he kept for all the remaining sixty years of his life.
In the April following the tea-burning there was a general Muster of Militia and it was noted that Providence County had two thousand Infantry and a Troop of Horse under arms, while Kent County had nearly fifteen hundred. Down in East Greenwich a lame Quaker and his friends had drilled, all the winter of 1774-75, in an independent company of soldiers called "The Kentish Guards."
Of course, what might well have been uppermost in John Brown's mind on this
particular April day was the amazing news of the Battle of Concord and Lexing- ton, which had been fought only three days before. All the Colonists must have been thinking of this, and details and incidents of the battle must have been on every tongue. 'Tis fairly certain, therefore, that when his Majesty's ship, the "Rose," held up the Brown vessel and the "Rose's" master, Capt. James Wallace, arrested John Brown and hurried him off to Boston on a well- grounded suspicion that he had taken part in the destruction of the "Gaspee," his prisoner must have been both surprised and considerably annoyed. For John Brown, although he is said to have had the "cour- age of a Corsair," had also a fund of good solid sense and disquieting thoughts may well have entered his mind. For instance, under the law he had been guilty of "piracy," those three years back, and the penalty for that offense was dire. Also, he may have reflected ruefully that, at this particular time with the blood of three hundred comrades still dyeing the road- sides into Boston, and the Americans with- in the last two days stretching their ragged but rugged lines all the way down from the Mystic River on the north, to Dorchester on the south, hemming General Gage's Army into Boston on the entire land side, the British were liable to be particularly provoked. He may well have quaked, al- though he must have known that the news of his capture would stir the countryside.
How the news of his disaster first reached his brother Moses, and how it came about that it was Moses-Moses, the youngest brother; Moses, the Quaker of a year, whose principles forbade his lifting his hand against the enemy-who set out to his rescue is not recorded. Where was Nicho- las in this emergency? What did Nicho- las believe? Joseph Brown knew about the burning of the King's ship-he had been "among those present." Therefore Joseph had good reason not to want to put his head into the British lion's mouth. But Joseph may not have told his brother Moses all that he knew of the situation.
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Possibly, because John and Moses were the nearest in age, there was an unusual bond between them, but perhaps the most important reason why Moses should be the emissary appears to be that Moses did truly believe that John had not been a party to the act for which he was arrested.
When it was decided that Moses should go to John's rescue, despite his brother's peril, he did not start without making careful preparation. First, he collected nineteen letters from notable people to aid him in getting through the British lines. From whom were these letters obtained? From none of the rebel citizens, surely. Perhaps Moses, the man of peace, num- bered friends on both sides and so obtained important signatures that would carry weight with the King's servants in Boston.
At any rate, armed with these nineteen letters, on horseback and alone, Moses Brown, on or about April 26, 1775, set out on a journey so remarkable that it is most unfortunate that complete record of every hour of it is not at hand.
History tells us that, after the battle, Colonists from all parts of New England streamed along the roads, leading into the village of Cambridge, until, within four or five days, 16,000 of them were encamped half-starved, shivering through the cold nights without blankets. Moses Brown saw these men in camp while attending to the formalities necessary in obtaining a pass through our lines. Rough, ungainly men many of these patriots were, "round- shouldered and stiff from labor. Perhaps in ill-fitting old military uniforms of blue turned back with red, but most of them in smocks as they had come from the fields . Some with great wigs that had once been white, some in their own hair, with every kind of hat or fur cap, every variety of old musket or shot gun; without or dis- cipline, laughing and talking with their leaders, welcoming to their ranks students from New Haven, or clerks from country- stores."
It was these unkempt patriots, using a variety of ammunition including half-bul- lets and old nails, who took such terrible toll on the British soldiers at Bunker Hill in less than two months from that day, as they aimed at the belts of the "Redcoats."
When Moses Brown passed successfully
through the British lines, as he did, with his nineteen letters, he was the first man to enter the city of Boston after the Battle of Concord and Lexington. A descendant of the Brown family has written that it has long been "a difficult question what ways and means such a good man could have used to rescue his brother, when John was the very man, the exact fugitive from jus- tice that the English had been searching for for three years with great vigilance and cost." Nine months before he died (and he lived to be ninety-eight years old) he wrote to a friend a letter concerning it. He recalled in this letter how the British were in Boston and the Americans besieging that city. He said that he passed through the lines successfully with his letters and that the first man he encountered was a British sentinel. The soldier did not hear him ap- proach and did not see him until he was right upon him. He turned upon the gentle Quaker and gave him such a "blast" as he had never before received. But there was something in that earnest face before him which must have reassured the sentinel. No doubt he was impressed that here was no or- dinary intruder. Perhaps the famous letters carried weight. At any rate, he calmed down and escorted Moses through scenes in marked contrast to the undisciplined camp he had just left-through companies of disciplined soldiers who wore scarlet coats and white knee-breeches and who carried muskets whose barrels fairly shone, until he came to the headquarters of Gen- eral Gage. Then he was taken to Vice- Admiral Graves, to Chief-Justice Peter Oliver, and, finally, to "Brother John" himself.
Judge Oliver, who had been instructed by his Majesty to find out who burnt the "Gaspee," was puzzled. He said to Moses : "It is true there were named before the Court five John Browns, some white, some black, but no person was so identi- fied as to enable the Court to issue any process, and, on considering the subject, we were united in judgment that nothing further could be done, and I will speak to the Admiral if you wish it." And, at his request, the Admiral set "Brother John" at liberty.
In the letter to his friend, Moses Brown made a statement which, considering the
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character of the man, should be regarded as testimony of all weight. The statement was: "It happened well for me and John that I knew nothing of his being concerned in the burning of the 'Gaspee,' or that he was charged with it."
History says that it was his "earnest en- treaty in behalf of 'Brother John,' his per- fect certainty that John had no connection whatever with the affair, that brought about his rescue."
The two brothers prepared now to re- turn to Providence. With but one horse, the one on which Moses had ridden to Boston, it was decided that as John was so much bigger he should sit in front while Moses rode behind. And in this way the two brothers returned home.
On their arrival in Providence-and one wonders at what hour-they were received with "joy beyond expression."
They were at once called before the Gen- eral Assembly to relate all that they had seen and heard. Stephen Hopkins, then a Member of Congress, was among those present. After a spirited discussion at that sitting, the Assembly voted to raise a regi- ment of five hundred men and to place General Greene and General Varnum at the head of it.
And by and by, after weary years, the War was over and the "Four Brothers" free to lead each in his own way, a life which to this day makes honorable impress on our State of Rhode Island and these "Plant- ations."
OLD TAVERN AND STAGECOACH DAYS
M ANY today can remember the last of the stagecoaches or stages which carried mail and travelers to the rural towns. With the establishment of the rural free delivery mail service, these lumbering stages grad- ually disappeared. But the great coach and six that followed the post road between cities went out with the coming of the rail- road. And, within a few decades, when the sound of the coach horn no longer echoed from hill to hill and the rattle of wheels and pounding of hooves had died away, the tav- ern also passed into oblivion.
The tavern was usually located near the meeting house, being a close second in im- portance, and was variously known as a tavern, inn, or ordinary. Many things the meeting house lacked the other supplied- warmth in winter, coolness in summer, com- fort for the body (and perhaps for the spirit as well). But when people began to neglect the church entirely for the tavern, the church elders passed laws to make them at- tend the former. "Frozen out" of one, they were soon "frozen" in the other. Yet, when a meeting house or church was to be raised, an inn was decidedly necessary, for no great building could ever be raised without hot toddy and rum.
In fact, taverns were the only places
where liquors could be bought and sold. They were licensed and forced to maintain order. Eleazer Arnold, of Providence, re- ceived his license in 1710, but he was not the first, for, in 1674, John Whipple had been allowed to "keepe a house of Inter- tainment." The doors of the early taverns were open to all except apprentices, negroes, and Indians, although the last were grad- ually admitted.
These first taverns did not have the guest facilities which we usually associate with the name. Whipple's ordinary had only two rooms and no place to put up travelers. However, it did have "pewter basins, quart pots, pint pots, gillpots, glass bottles, and other dishes," which were much more in demand than "old fether beds," broken "bedstuds," and "old Red Coverlets." In Boston there were a few taverns with all the spaciousness of a mansion. These had separately furnished rooms, each with a name of its own. However, the majority by far were like the Whipple inn. And they grew in numbers like weeds, until, by 1696, they had already begun to be de- nounced as a bad influence. While there was little show about them, they actually did a great deal for travelers. Bills were figured according to capacity to pay, and guests received all the comforts and at-
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tention of a private home. Dr. Johnson was reputed to have said, "No sir, there is noth- ing which has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn."
The tavernkeepers themselves were a pic- turesque lot. Usually stout, good-natured, good-looking, and well-dressed, they were prominent public figures, enjoying all sorts of confidences, public and private, leading the singing in the meeting houses, running ferries, teaching the children of travelers, serving on the legislature or town council, acting as recruiting officers in times of war, as storekeepers, surveyors, or story- tellers. Some were frugal and thrifty, some mean and penurious, while others were ex- travagant. Some were of bitter dispositions, but, as a rule, they were jolly enough.
Justice Eleazer Arnold held court in his tavern on the Mendon road near Lincoln Woods. Here was one place, at least, where the Indians found a warm welcome. He had in his tavern, when his belongings were reckoned up, the "old bed the Indians used to Lie on." Whether this is meant in the same sense as in the story told of William Penn and the Indians is not known. In that case it was humorously said that he and the Indians used to retire to the house and lie and talk for hours, Penn doing the talking and the Indians the lying.
Henry Bowen, who operated a famous tavern in Barrington before the Revolution, was a great public man, serving as store- keeper, Sunday constable, moderator, tax assessor and collector, and recruiting officer. Thomas Fenner, a keeper of a tavern in Neutaconconit, was a major, a justice of the peace, a storekeeper, and noted surveyor.
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