“Against the wooded hills it stands,
Ghost of a dead house; staring through
Its broken lights on wasted lands
Where old-time harvests grew.
“Unploughed, unsown, by scythe unshorn,
The poor forsaken farm-fields lie,
Once rich and rife with golden corn
And pale-green breadths of rye.
“So sad, so drear; it seems almost
Some haunting Presence makes its sign,
That down some shadowy lane some ghost
Might drive his spectral kine.”
Since then the old tavern has fallen down, a sad ruin, like many another on New England hills, in a country as wild and lonely, probably far lonelier, than in the days of the Revolution and Shays’ Rebellion. The sign-board ([page 190]) is still preserved.
Eighteenth-century taverns had a special function which had a bearing on their war relations; they were “improved” as recruiting offices. During the years 1742 to 1748, and from 1756 to 1763, while England was at war with France, the “listing” was brisk. Here is a typical advertisement dated 1759:—
“All able-bodied fit Men that have an Inclination to serve his Majesty King George the Second, in the First Independent Company of Rangers, now in the Province of Nova Scotia commanded by Joseph Gorham, Esq.; shall, on enlisting, receive good Pay and Cloathing, a large Bounty, with a Crown to drink the King’s Health. And by repairing to the Sign of the Bear in King-Street, Boston, and to Mr. Cornelius Crocker, Innholder in Barnstable, may hear the particular Encouragement, and many Advantages accruing to a Soldier, in the Course of the Duty of that Company, too long to insert here; and further may depend on being discharged at the expiration of the Time entertain’d for, and to have every other Encouragement punctually compli’d with.”
Conkey Tavern.
In the “French War of 1744,” the Governor of Jamaica sent his “leftenants” to Philadelphia to fill up his regiments. It was worth “listing” at the Widow Roberts’ Coffee-house in those days, when every “sojer” got six shillings a week extra, and his family carried free to Antigua if he wished it, and land to settle on in that glorious country when war was over. Brisk and cheerful was the enrolment, and I trust all lived happy ever after in the tropic land, so far away in miles and environment from the Quaker town of their youth.
It was pleasant work, also, for “gentlemen sailors” in 1744. The colonies whisked out on the high seas that year a hundred and thirteen full-manned privateers. Wealthy merchants gathered around the inn tables to join fortunes in these ventures; plans were quickly matured; and the articles of agreement signed by these rich ship-owners were quickly followed by articles of agreement to be signed by the seamen. Oh, what prizes these cruisers brought into port! There are no items in the newspapers of that day under the head of Philadelphia and New York news save lists of prizes. When these half-pirates came in, cannon were fired, the whole town turned out, and the taverns were filled with rejoicings. The names of the ships and their captains were household words. The captured cargoes were carried ashore; inventories were posted in the taprooms, and often the goods were sold within the welcoming tavern doors.
Sign-board of Conkey Tavern.