Plymouth memories of an octogenarian

by William T. Davis

Of the successive steps taken in the manufacture of pens until the steel pen, the gold pea with diamond point, and at last the fountain pen came into use, which was followed by the typewriting machine I do not propose to speak. In business the machine seems to be coming rapidly into use, and is even finding its way into social correspondence. I have an old man’s notion, which if I live I may outgrow, that only with the hand should a letter of friendship be written. By the use of the typewriter I fear that the accomplishment of letter writing has become a thing of the past.

CHAPTER XXXXVII.

The marriage laws of Massachusetts prevailing today are different from those in force all through my youth. As early as 1786 a law was passed by the General Court of Massachusetts establishing the methods to be pursued by those intending to enter into marriage, which provided that all persons intending to be joined in marriage, should “cause notice of their intention to be filed with the town clerk fourteen days before their marriage, which notice should be published by the clerk, either by posting up a written notice in some public place in the town of which he is clerk, fourteen days at least before the marriage or by making public proclamation thereof at three public religious meetings in the town on separate days, not less than three days distant from each other, exclusive of the days of publication.” This law with slight amendments remained in force until 1850, when the present law was enacted requiring only a notice to the town clerk, by whom the necessary certificate would be issued. I remember well the little box with a glass front attached to the wall in the vestibule of the meeting house in which the marriage intention was posted, and I have often heard it read from the pulpit on the three Sundays required by law, much to the embarrassment of the loving pair sitting within the gaze of the congregation.

One of the most remarkable developments within my memory has been the number of articles claimed to be associated with the Mayflower and the Pilgrims. Not a month passes without the reception at Pilgrim Hall of a letter offering for sale a Mayflower relic. It may be a tea pot, though the Pilgrims had no tea; or a porcelain mug, though the inventories recorded in Plymouth contained no porcelain ware until 1660; or a fork, which the Pilgrims did not use, or a mahogany table, though no mahogany was known in England before 1700.

Three articles claimed to have been associated with the Pilgrims I have myself proved to bear fictitious labels. One of these exhibited a few years ago at a portrait exhibition in Copley Square as a miniature of Governor Edward Winslow, when he was six years of age, I have found to be a picture of a son of Capt. Thomas Dingley of Marshfield, painted about the time of the Revolution. Another article labelled the “Knocker” from the door of Governor Winslow’s house, was taken from the door of a house built by Isaac Winslow, grandson of the governor, about 1720. Still another article presented to the Pilgrim Society as a part of the doorstep of a church in Delfthaven where the Pilgrims held service on the eve of their departure, owed the origin of its record to a miss-reported speech of one of the building committee of a church in Chicago, who had at its dedication stated that he had imbedded in its walls a piece of Plymouth Rock, a stone from Scrooby, and a piece of the pavement of a church in Delfthaven, which, perhaps, the Pilgrims may have visited. Of course the piece of doorstep has never found a lodgment in Pilgrim Hall. These fictitious historic relics are interesting as showing the veneration in which the Pilgrims are held, which is not shared by the Winthrop Colony, or by any other body of men since the days of Christ.

It will be remembered by my readers that at the dinner of the Old Colony Club on the 22d of December, 1769, the first course was “a large baked Indian Whortleberry pudding.” I have often been asked how long the custom continued of serving the pudding before the meat, and whether I remembered such a custom, and my reply has been that the only relic of the custom existing within my day was a legend of the promise once made at dinner to children, that the more pudding they ate the more meat they might have. I always supposed that this promise was intended to restrict indulgence in meat, either from motives of economy, or to confine the youthful diet to a more wholesome food. I have recently read an extract from a book of travels written by Henry Bradshaw Fearon, an Englishman, who visited the United States in 1817. The book is in the Congressional Library in Washington, and probably never had a circulation on this side of the ocean. It contains much of interest to an American reader, including an approximately accurate answer to the question concerning the custom above mentioned. Mr. Fearon left New York on the 8th of September, 1817, on the steamboat Connecticut, bound for New Haven, and he described the boat as having an engine of forty horse power, and fitted up with one cabin for ladies, two for gentlemen, and an extensive kitchen. Arriving at New Haven in twelve hours, he was transferred to the steamboat Fulton, bound to New London, from which place he took a stage via Providence for Boston. The fare from New York to New Haven, including table board, was seven dollars. On a Sunday, while in Boston, he went to Quincy and dined with ex-president John Adams. The dinner was served at one o’clock, and consisted of a first course of Indian meal pudding and molasses, and a second course of veal, bacon, neck of mutton, cabbage, carrots, and Indian beans, with Madeira wine. He said that Boston was the headquarters of Federalism in politics and Unitarianism in religion, and that the Bostonians were the most intelligent and hospitable people he had met in America. Thus it is certain that the pudding custom was in vogue in 1817, and was discontinued not long afterwards.

The allusion above made to the steamboats Connecticut and Fulton, leads me to again refer to the steamboat Eagle, which came to Plymouth in 1818 under the command of Capt. Lemuel Clark. That boat was built in New York, but like other boats was enjoined under a New York law from operating in New York waters, on the ground of a monopoly in the use of the rivers and harbors of New York, which had been granted by the state. Resistance to this monopoly led to the famous case of Gibbons against Ogden, in which, while the monopoly was held good by the state courts, it was decided by the Supreme Court of the United States to be unconstitutional. Pending the decision in that case, steamboats sought business in other waters, and the Eagle, before coming to Boston and Plymouth, cruised in Chesapeake bay, under the command of Capt. Moses Rogers, who was in 1819 commander of the steamship Savannah, which in that year was the first steamship to cross the Atlantic. A picture of the Eagle is owned by the Pilgrim Society. Capt. Rogers was the grandfather of our townsman, Dr. Charles Rufus Rogers, and it is the story of the Savannah, which leads me into a digression which may make necessary an additional chapter of memories which I had intended to close with the next chapter. A memoir of Capt. Moses Rogers states that the Savannah was a full rigged ship of three hundred and fifty tons, built at Corlear’s Hook, New York, by Francis Fickett, and launched August 22, 1818. She was bought by Scarborough and Isaacs of Savannah, and her machinery, with a ninety horse power engine, having forty-inch cylinders, and a five foot stroke, was put in under the supervision of Capt. Rogers. Besides the Eagle he had already commanded the steamboat Fulton on the Hudson river, and the Phenix on the Delaware river. A picture of the Savannah, a copy of which I have seen, represents her as a vessel of fine model, with round stern, a medium clipper bow, and a graceful, easy shear. Her wheels were made adjustable, and so affixed to the shaft as in stormy weather to be unshipped and removed to the deck in twenty minutes. Her wheels consisted of eight radial arms held in place by one flange, and arranged to close like a fan. With her allowance of seventy-five tons of coal and twenty-five cords of wood, she sailed from New York, March 28, 1819, and arrived at Savannah April 6, in two hundred and seven hours from Sandy Hook lightship, having steamed four days during the passage. On the 22d of May she began her voyage from Savannah to Liverpool, where she arrived on the 20th of June. Her log kept by Stevens Rogers, the sailing master, a brother-in-law of Capt. Moses Rogers, is in the possession of the descendants of Moses, and contains an interesting account of the voyage. On the 23d of July the Savannah set sail from Liverpool for Cronstadt, touching at Copenhagen and Stockholm on the way, reaching the first named port on the 9th of September. A few days later she arrived at St. Petersburg, where she remained until October 10, receiving while there visits from the Russian Lord High Admiral Marcus de Travys. On the 30th of November she again reached Savannah, and was run as a packet between that port and New York, until she was wrecked on Long Island.

Questions are often asked in newspapers and elsewhere concerning the circumstances attending the composition of popular hymns and songs, and I have already told my readers about the origin of “Sweet Home,” and the “Star Spangled Banner.” I have lately read in the Boston Sunday Herald an account of the composition of “My Country ’tis of Thee,” by Samuel Francis Smith, which may be interesting to those of my readers who did not happen to see it. Mr. Smith was born in Sheafe street, Boston, October 21, 1808, and after attending the Eliot school and the Boston Latin school, graduated at Harvard in 1829. After graduating at the Andover Theological Seminary in 1832, he was settled as pastor of the Baptist church in Waterville, Me., and served as Professor of Modern languages in Colby University until he removed to Newton, Mass., where he resided until his death. At a meeting in the Old South Church in Boston, Mr. Smith said, in giving a history of the hymn, that many years before Mr. W. C. Woodbridge brought from Germany a number of books containing words and music used in the schools there, and gave them to Mr. Lowell Mason, who gave them to him, requesting him to either translate them or write words to such of the music as pleased him. In looking these books over, Mr. Smith found the notes of our National anthem attached to a patriotic hymn, and was inspired by it to write the hymn in question. To the tune of “God Save the King,” Mr. Smith’s hymn was sung for the first time at a Sunday-school celebration on the Fourth of July, 1832, and received at once such popular commendation as to re-christen the tune with the name of “America.” We, of course, ought to accept Mr. Smith’s word, but it seems almost increditable that he should have never heard of the tune until 1832, when it had been known in England as “God Save the King” at least two hundred years. It is also singular that the origin of many national airs should be involved in doubt. The Marseillaise, Yankee Doodle, and to a certain extent the “God Save the King” had an obscure, if not doubtful, authorship. The last, however, which has by some been attributed to Henry Carey, a musical composer who flourished in the time of James the First, seems to have been established by good evidence, to have been composed by John Bull, a contemporary with Carey, who died in 1622. As I have not been able to trace the name John Bull as applied to the English people, farther back than about the early part of the 17th century, I think it is a reasonable conjecture that Dr. Bull was not only the author of the National anthem, but also through his authorship of that popular air that he gave the name for all time to his fellow countrymen.

The composition of the favorite Pilgrim hymn “Sons of Renowned Sires” by Judge John Davis of Boston in 1794, is interesting. Coming to Plymouth on the evening of the 21st of December to attend a celebration of the anniversary of the Landing on the next day, the regret was expressed to him that no original hymn had been prepared for the occasion, as had been intended. He expressed no intention to write one, but at an early hour retired to his chamber with his wife. Instead of going to bed he began to walk the room to the annoyance of his wife, and against her earnest remonstrances. Mrs. Davis fell asleep, waking occasionally, and finding him still walking, and the bed candle unsnuffed and smoking. Not having the remotest idea what he was doing, she became alarmed for his sanity, and again and again her sleep was broken by the noise of his footsteps. At last the candle was extinguished, and in the morning Mr. Davis surprised the committee with the hymn, which was sung that day to the tune of “God Save the King,” thirty-eight years before Mr. Smith, the author of his anthem, had ever heard of it, and which has been sung probably at every Pilgrim celebration since.

The story of the inspiration of “The Breaking Waves Dashed High,” written by Mrs. Hemans, is also an interesting one. In 1825 she was living with her brother at Rhyllon, a parish of St. Asaph at the mouth of the river Clwyd in North Wales. After shopping one day, one of her purchases was sent home in a bandbox covered with a newspaper, which she noticed was a Boston daily. Before throwing the paper away or burning it, she had the curiosity to look over its contents in which she found a long account of the Pilgrim celebration in Plymouth on December 22, 1824, and copious extracts from the oration delivered by Edward Everett. The Pilgrim story was a new one to her, and the account, which she read with great interest, was so circumstantial as to inspire her with the grandeur of the theme. She told Rev. Charles T. Brooks on a visit to her later home in Dublin, that she at once, after reading the account, turned to her desk and wrote the immortal lines. The original manuscript of the hymn she gave to James T. Fields of Boston, and it is now preserved in the cabinet of the Pilgrim Society, a gift from Mr. Fields.