USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. II > Part 15
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One of the most distinctive features of the old tavern was its sign. Always con- spicuous, even when it simply consisted of a rude board with the painted name, it stuck out from the side of the tavern itself, or hung from a nearby tree. Signs themselves originated in Greek and Roman days, and from the latter the English derived the tav- ern symbol, the "bush." An ordinance of Louis XIV of France read: "Tavernkeepers must put up synboards and a bush." The names on these signboards on the colonial taverns were of all sorts, copied in many cases from those of England, and ranging
from the "White Horse," "Crown," "Boar," to "Shakespeare's Head" and the "Golden Ball Inn" of Providence.
"Training days" were the busiest for inn- keepers. In the days prior to the Revolu- tion all males had to practice arms at least once a week, usually on Saturday. In Prov- idence it was "ordered that those ffarms which are one mile off the town alone shall have liberty to leave one man at home on the trayneing dayes." This privilege was allowed as a means of protection against prowling Indians. Because tavernkeepers in many cases were also military officers, they were sometimes accused of ordering drills to increase their tavern trade. Other particular days of importance in the life of the taverns were market days, when the farmers from out of town regaled them- selves after their trading, and Ordinance Days, held for new ministers.
But what of the taverns themselves? How were they arranged within and what sort of cheer did they offer? Of first impor- tance was the great room. A huge fireplace almost filled one whole side (that of Eleazer Arnold was especially noteworthy). Here the huge logs burned fiercely in winter, throwing a wealth of warmth into the room, but in summer the fireplace was filled with green shrubs. The floor of the room was of hard oak, sanded and polished smooth and white. Scattered about were chests, chairs, benches, settees, and stools. The ceiling was usually low-studded, with great hand-hewn beams. The bar, perhaps the most impor- tant adjunct, stood in one corner, although it was sometimes in the form of an adjoin- ing buffet. Hanging by the fireplace was the flip-iron, known also as "hottle, logger- head, and flip-dog" and indispensible in the concoction of many favorite beverages. This instrument was heated and plunged into liquors to give them a peculiar, bitter and dearly loved flavor. It was often broken during repeated heatings and had to be sent to the blacksmith for repair. Henry Bowen of Barrington derived much popularity from his punch, prepared in a "large De- fiance punch bowl." Another favorite drink was flip or battered flip, made of beer and a beaten egg, stirred well with a hot flip- iron, and brought to a finish with a dash of rum. But there were many popular New
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England drinks, such as punch, cider, strong beer, porter, grog, port, sherry, toddy, claret, and rum. The most common was cider, first introduced by William Blackstone.
All sorts of entertainment were offered in addition to liquid refreshment. Here, all kinds of strange captive animals, mon- strosities, and the like were exhibited, for the old tavernkeeper was a born showman and knew how to draw a crowd. At the tavern, too, gathered many of the old and young to dance the old square dances and the minuets. The music supplied by a viol, flute, fiddle, or spinnet was weak, but once the spirit of the gathering was aroused, the singing voices carried on the tunes.
Thus, in nearly every respect, the taverns were the center of town and community life. Roger Williams held meetings in the Mow- ry Tavern, built in 1655 at the north end of the city. Before the Revolution the tav- erns were the meeting places for those who discussed revolt. At Peleg Arnold's Inn, in Smithfield, minute men were recruited, and Captain Joseph Olney named one of his huge elms in front of his tavern "The Lib-
erty Tree." At James Sabin's waterfront tavern gathered the men who set out to burn the "Gaspee," and General Prescott, after his capture, was taken to David Arn- old's Inn in Warwick. "Pitt's Head" and "White Horse," famous taverns of New- port, were first recruiting stations for the patriots and then the quarters for the Eng- lish and Hessians during the occupation of Newport.
In stagecoach days the taverns took on a new importance, for they became booking places for all travelers and mail. Crowds gathered to greet the arrival of the stage- coach, curious to learn news of other States and outlying districts.
But the days of the stagecoach are also gone. The clouds of dust, the roar and rattle, the plunging horses, the coachman's shouts, the blare of the horn, and the bust- ling about, building up the fire, bringing out porter and punch, unloading of baggage and passengers, the care of the horses, ques- tions asked and answered, all the general excitement and confusion are gone and with them the tavern days, the last days of real Colonial romance and quaintness.
THE KENTISH GUARDS
TN ADDITION to whatever military forces the Colonial government of Rhode Isl- and equipped and maintained for purposes of defense, there were various independent military organizations which were founded during fluctuating waves of patriotic enthu- siasm. While the desire to band together in clubs and associations has always been a strong human characteristic, the chaotic period of American history, which extended from the years just prior to the Revolution to those just following the War of 1812, provided unusual stimuli for the formation of many private organizations of a military nature. Among such Rhode Island mili- tary organizations of independent origin and maintenance, none was more famous than the Kentish Guards. It was in Kent County, more exactly in East Greenwich, that the idea of forming this organization
was first conceived, and, in 1774, after a large group of patriotic citizens had drawn up a tentative charter and petitioned the General Assembly for an "Act of Incor- poration," the charter was granted and the unit, called the "Kentish Guards," came into existence.
There were in the neighborhood of 180 men in the complete personnel of this unit. Liberal funds had been raised privately to establish and outfit the Guards, and they were supplied with elaborate uniforms and equipment. In addition, they received ex- cellent military training and rapidly be- came a competent and well-disciplined company. Many men, prominent not only in East Greenwich but in the Colony as a whole, were members of the Kentish Guards, and, during the Revolution, the organiza- tion gave more distinguished officers to the Continental Army than any other indepen- dent unit of its sort throughout New Eng-
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land. Of especial note were Major-General Nathanael Greene, who rose to be second only to Washington himself; Brigadier- General James Varnum, Colonel Christo- pher Greene, who defeated the Hessians at Red Bank, New Jersey; Colonel Archibald Crary, Major John S. Dexter and Captain Thomas Arnold. Many of lower rank also had especially commendable military ca- reers, and in all more than thirty-five of the Kentish Guards were in the Continental Army.
When, in the Battle of Lexington, in 1775, the sturdy Massachusetts patriots "fired the shot heard round the world," the echo of this commencement of hostilities with the British came swiftly and clearly to Rhode Island. The Kentish Guards, well-trained and eager for action, were not slow in re- sponding to the call of their countrymen of the Bay State. In little more than two hours after the news of the repulse of the British reached the Providence Plantations by rider, the guards were on the march northward. But the thrills of anticipation, the brave martial music, the excitement of marching out of East Greenwich, were evidences of a patriotic fervor that was doomed to disappointment. When the Guards, one hundred and ten strong, reached Pawtucket, they were halted and ordered back by Governor Joseph Wanton. While the fact that the British had returned to Boston and fortified themselves securely in that stronghold was given as a reason for this command, it is probable that the Gov- ernor was more than a little in sympathy with the British cause and was somewhat of a Tory. However, disregarding the order, Nathanael Greene and two companions marched on to Boston and offered their ser- vices to General Washington, in Cambridge. This act on the part of the staunch Rhode Islanders aroused the deep admiration of Washington, and it was this deed that was the foundation for his later great friendship and faith in Nathanael Greene.
After having returned to East Greenwich, the remainder of the Kentish Guards pro- ceeded to erect a fort at the entrance to East Greenwich Bay as a protection for the town and surrounding countryside against the British ships then in Narragansett Bay. This fortification, named Fort Daniels, was equipped with eight or ten cannon, which
were taken to West Point after the Revolu- tion. While a guard was maintained there for a long time and the fort had its day of importance, no trace of it now remains ex- cept in the town records.
If the main body of the Kentish Guards was disappointed in not being able to join Washington and the Continental Army at Cambridge, there was still plenty to keep it on the alert right in the vicinity of East Greenwich. Small details of men from the organization were often engaged in run- ning down and capturing spies that ap- peared in the vicinity, the case of a man named Hart being a particular example. Quite frequently the Guards were called to Quidnesset Point, two or three miles below East Greenwich, to prevent the British ships from landing plundering parties. In many of these cases the British had been aided by Tories who knew the countryside well and helped the enemy in their raids.
The activities of British warships, one of twenty-five tons in command of Captain Wallace and another of twenty tons com- manded by Captain Ascough, were espe- cially watched, particularly after the form- er commander had landed at Canonicut Is- land, burned many houses, carried off cat- tle and provisions, and even killed some of the inhabitants. At one time, when a ship was driven ashore near East Greenwich and captured by the enemy, the Kentish Guards sent a detachment to retake the vessel. A short but sharp skirmish ensued, but the patriots were victorious.
On a later expedition against the British, the guards sailed a sloop to Prudence Isl- and. In the midst of the work of landing supplies and provisions they were interrupt- ed by a runner from the other end of the island who informed them that the British were landing two hundred men at a point only three miles away. Although the Kent- ish Guards were only eighty in number, the rest of their unit being still on the mainland, they made a brave show with flags and drums (for their guns and ammunition had not been landed) and succeeded in scaring off the enemy. Again, in 1778, the guards attempted to go to the aid of General Sul- livan on Newport Island, but their transport was cut off by an English warship, and they were forced to land at Pappoosesquaw Point, opposite Bristol. While there they re.
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ceived orders not to go on, so they encamped and took care of the wounded from the Bat- tle of Rhode Island.
After the Revolution the Kentish Guards entered upon an era of non-activity until the advent of the War of 1812. Again men from their ranks joined governmental forces and gave good account of themselves. However, the real high-point in the career of the Guards as an organization came in 1842 when they played a prominent part in what was known as the Dorr War. Answer- ing a call from Governor King, they marched to Providence, under the com- mand of Colonel Allen. This was at a time when Dorr himself with his followers at- tempted to capture the Cranston Street Ar- senal. However, the threatened attack failed, and the Guards did not have any real work to do. A month intervened before Governor King again called for the Guards, this time sending a special train to bring them directly to Pawtucket. After the Dorr affair, trouble and rebellion had been brew- ing among the people, until it had broken out in rioting in Pawtucket.
The Kentish Guards, about fifty or sixty in number, took up their posts at a bridge over the Blackstone River and at Main Street ยท opposite Mill Street. Mobs, who assembled to watch, taunted the soldiers and even threatened them with violence. Attempts were made to break the line of guards, and one man with a horse and car- riage was encouraged to break the ranks.
His persistent attempts made it necessary for the Guards to fire at the horse, an action which stirred the mob into throwing bricks and missiles of all sorts. When the soldiers fired with blank cartridges to frighten the enraged multitude, the latter only became more furious. Despite all the taunts and the more serious danger from the flying mis- siles, the Kentish Guards refrained from at- tacking and maintained perfect discipline. So reluctant were they to cause injury to anyone that they elevated their guns above the heads of the people when ordered to fire. Matters had to reach a climax, how- ever, and after a more threatening advance upon the part of certain body of men, the Guards shot in earnest, killing the ring lead- er. This seemed to bring the people to their senses, and they dispersed immediately. The fact that it was a rainy day, and consequent- ly one calculated to dampen the most violent spirits, was, perhaps, instrumental in reduc- ing the number of casualties that might otherwise have occurred.
After this engagement, the Kentish Guards again returned to East Greenwich and were highly honored by their fellow townsmen. Resolutions of thanks were drawn up and sent to them by citizens of Pawtucket, while in addition, they were pre- sented with a handsome blue silk flag by ladies of Providence. The episode was con- cluded with a highly laudatory sermon preached in their honor by Reverend Crane of East Greenwich.
THE BOMBARDMENT OF BRISTOL
N the perfect autumnal afternoon of Saturday, October 7th, 1775, word was spread through the peaceful town of Bris- tol of the approach of a fleet of British war-vessels, which had, for some months, been stationed at Newport. The fleet, con- sisting of the war-ships, "Rose," "Glas- gow," and "Swan," one bomb-brig, a schooner, and some smaller vessels, sailed leisurely up the bay in a light southerly breeze, and when they dropped anchor, about sunset, the entire population lined the shore, to witness the unusual spectacle.
That the visit was other than a friendly one, was wholly unsuspected.
Captain Sir James Wallace was in com- mand, with the "Rose" as his flag-ship. Fol- lowing the firing of a royal salute, from the flag-ship, at eight o'clock, a barge from the same vessel, pulled into the wharf. A Lieutenant stepped ashore and informed the assembled citizens that Captain Wallace had a demand to make and desired some representative townsman to visit him, on the "Rose," at once, or the town would be attacked without further ceremony.
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William Bradford, as a Magistrate, told the Lieutenant that inasmuch as the demand came from Captain Wallace, there was no reason why the townsmen should go to him, but if he would come to the head of the wharf in the morning, he would be re- ceived as a gentleman, and his demands considered.
The Lieutenant returned to the "Rose," and an hour later, while the citizens were anxiously awaiting Captain Wallace's re- ply, the entire fleet began a heavy cannon- ading, and the bomb-ship heaved shells and carcasses filled with combustibles into the town. This continued for an hour and a half. In the midst of the hottest fire, Colonel Potter went aboard the "Rose" and re- quested a cessation of hostilities until the inhabitants could choose a committee to confer with Captain Wallace. A truce of six hours was, therefore, declared. The committee which went to the flag-ship was met by Captain Wallace with the curt de- mand that they supply him, at once, with 200 sheep and 30 fat cattle. This was im- possible, as the farmers had driven their stock back into the country and only one sheep and a few cows remained. After sev- eral hours of negotiations the Captain said, "I have this one proposal to make: if you will promise to supply me with 40 sheep, at or before 12 o'clock, I will assure you that another gun shall not be discharged."
Faced with the alternative of furnishing their enemies with food, or jeopardizing the safety of the town, the committee had no choice but to deliver the sheep, which they did at the appointed time. After stealing about 90 sheep and some poultry from Popasquash, the fleet weighed anchor and moored at Popasquash Point. The next day they went into Bristol Ferry-way and fired several shots at the houses and people on shore. Three of the ships went aground, but were floated with the rising tide, and the fleet departed.
It is thought that in firing on the town it was Wallace's idea to intimidate the inhabi- tants, rather than do serious harm, because the guns of the vessels were set at an angle which sent most of the shot over the houses into the rising ground behind the town.
Nevertheless, the church, the meeting house, the court house, and several dwellings were pierced by the shots. One shot struck a lo- cust tree on State Street, and glanced off into the Walley house, where it was discov- ered embedded in the ceiling, in 1840. An- other shot entered Finney's Distillery, passed through three hogsheads and bar- rels of rum, and spilt the contents. A good sized grape-shot pierced the walls of Ben- jamin Smith's house, on the west side of Hope Street, passed over the bed in which his son was asleep, and lodged in the fire- place, where it was allowed to remain for some time as a memento.
A great gap was made in the stone wall near Governor Bradford's home, and while the Governor was climbing the fence be- tween the garden and the house, a shot sent flying into the air a board on which his hand had rested but a moment before. An- other shot reduced to splinters the curb of a well from which a man was drawing wa- ter. For many years afterwards the plows of the farmers constantly turned up quan- tities of rusty shot. This bombardment, naturally enough, brought consternation to the citizens, and even the skies turned black, and a torrential rain fell. An unusually fatal epidemic had been raging for some weeks, and more than sixty of the sick were hurriedly carried out into the rain by their terror-stricken families, the exposure prov- ing fatal in several cases.
Fortunately, not a single person was struck by the flying shot, the only other fatality being the death of the Reverend John Burt, who was found, face down, in a corn-field to which he had fled, in fear, from his sick-bed.
The following bit of poetry, inspired by the Bombardment, was popular for many years, although it has little literary value:
THE BOMBARDMENT OF BRISTOL In seventeen hundred and seventy-five Our Bristol town was much surprised By a pack of thievish villains,
That will not work to earn their livings.
October, 't was the seventh day, As I have heard the people say, Wallace, his name be ever curst, Came in our harbor just at dusk.
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THE EMPIRE-ABORN BRANCH OF THE PROVIDENCE INSTITUTION FOR SAVINGS, EMPIRE AND ABORN STREETS, BETWEEN WESTMINSTER AND WASHINGTON STREETS ERECTED 1929.
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And there his ships did safely moor, . And quickly sent his barge on shore With orders that should not be broke, Or they might expect a smoke.
Demanding that the magistrates Should quickly come on board his ships, And let him have some sheep and cattle, Or they might expect a battle.
At eight o'clock, by signal given, Our peaceful atmosphere was riven By British balls, both grape and round, As plenty afterward were found.
But oh! to hear the doleful cries Of people running for their lives! Women, with children in their arms,
Running away to the farms.
With all their firing and their skill They did not any person kill.
Neither was any person hurt But the Reverend Parson Burt.
And, he was not killed by a ball,
As judged by jurors, one and all: But being in a sickly state, He frightened fell, which proved his fate.
Another truth to you I'll tell,
That you may see they levelled well: For, aiming for to kill the people, They fired their shot into a steeple.
They fired low, they fired high,
The women scream, the children cry: And all their firing and their racket Shot off the topmast of a packet.
EAST GREENWICH POTTERY
Y EARS upon years roll by giving to things created long ago a rich old flavor and a time-aged mellowness. In liqueurs, towns, and men the first sharp tastes, the feverish love of growth, the youthful ner- vousness is blended out; and gradually the pulses of all three calm down to easy smoothness.
The pulse of old East Greenwich is smooth. It beats quietly beneath the roar of rail and highway traffic. It beats calmly behind the modern shopping district which is growing so fast, behind the dapper, white flotilla of yachts and motorboats in the harbor, behind the hurried lives of a new kind of inhabitant. Why should East Green- wich, old and famous, be disturbed by change? Like an old man quietly smoking before a fire, the town lives back among its memories. The old houses that sit by day watching the endless stream of moving cars wait patiently for night, when the darkness brings the lighted stage-coach rumbling into town.
Again, the light shines from the windows of the tavern, and the bay is dotted with gray ghost sails of lean "four-masters" heading for the docks. The old town hears sailors laughing through the night when no one else hears anything at all. The day sees everything as it is; only at night
can the old town vision the past. It sees the stocks and pillories before the court house, and at the head of King Street. For it, the Kentish Guards again parade in all their colonial finery. The very town- ship changes; the new is whisked away and in its stead the old dirt roads come back, the shipyards raise their framework, old shops replace the new, and in the old gray houses visions of a hundred years ago re- turn.
The coming of dawn erases the scene like a picture upon a blackboard, but at night it again returns. Down at the corner of King and Marlborough Streets a short stout chimney belches fire into the dark. The Upton brothers are at work. A modern dwelling stands upon the spot in the day but at night it vanishes, and in its stead are the Upton shop and kiln. The years roll back to 1775; East Greenwich pottery is being made once more.
We of today are blind. But the old town can look into the kiln and can see the Up- tons working. A door is being opened and shut, and each time wild bursts of flame shoot out into the darkness. One of the brothers, perhaps it is Samuel, is using a long shovel-like instrument to tend the fires, while Isaac is moulding rough plates and cups from dark red clay. Pieces from the kiln are lying about, a little brighter
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red, yet still quite somber. Crude products they are. Plates not quite even on the bot- toms, not perfectly symmetrical, cups with varying handles, all unlike except in color and materials, pans for milk and jugs, heavier than the others, though they were all thick enough. Rough products made for a rough people, a people that are revolting against finer material things, revolting against an old established country in favor of a new pioneer civilization.
For this is the year of the Revolution, thirteen little Colonies against England, and one of these Colonies is Rhode Island. All imports have been stopped because all trade has been stopped. There is no Eng- lish cloth, no English brass-work, no fine English porcelain. But the Colonies are making cloth in the homes, men are ham- mering out iron instead of brass, and here in East Greenwich the Uptons are making pottery. They little dream that, in future years, their pottery will be famous. They are only working to satisfy a demand for their product. Families need cups, saucers, plates, many of them, not only in East Greenwich but up and down the bay. This clay material is so coarse it will not hold together well. It is like the red clay flower pots of 1929, or the earthenware jugs and milkpans of the 1890's, and breaks easily. Orders have piled upon orders, and the Uptons are working even at night.
We change from the scene of the kiln and steal a look inside one of the old houses. The table is set with these red plates and cups from the Upton kiln, not a one balanced perfectly, but blending in well with the dark wood of the table itself and giving back in red glow some of the warmth of the hearth-fire. These then form the stock of this household. We move on to another. This family has retired early but there are the same kind of plates and cups on the cupboard shelves beside the pewter in the kitchen. House after house; it is all alike. The Upton crockery has re- placed nearly all the lighter and more graceful pieces of English china. Every- where there is this same blend of red, this same loyalty to native manufacture.
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