Dealings With The Dead Volume I Part 28

The old man took from his pocket a master key, and beckoned me to follow.

He opened an ancient tomb. The mouldy sh.e.l.ls were piled one upon another, and a few rusty fragments of that flimsy garniture, which was in vogue of old, had fallen on the bricks below.

"_Sacred to the memory!_" said the old man, with a sad, significant smile, upon his intelligent features, as he removed the coffin of a child. I looked into the little receptacle, as he raised the lamp. "This," said he, "was the most beautiful boy I ever buried." "This?" said I, for the little narrow house contained nothing but a small handful of grayish dust. "Aye,"

he replied, "I see; it is all gone now--it is twelve years since I looked at it last--there were some remnants of bones then, and a lock or two of golden hair. This small deposit was one of the first that I made, in this melancholy savings bank. Six-and-thirty years! So tender and so frail a thing may well be turned to dust.

"Time is an alchymist, Abner, as you and I well know. If tears could have embalmed, it would not have been thus. I have never witnessed such agony.

The poor, young mother lies there. She was not seventeen, when she died.

In a luckless hour, she married a very gentlemanly sot, and left her native home, for a land of strangers. Hers was the common fate of such unequal bargains. He wasted her little property, died of intemperance, and left her nothing, but this orphan boy. And all the love of her warm, young heart was turned upon this child. It had, to be sure, the sweetest, catching smile, that I ever beheld.

"Their heart strings seemed twisted together--the child pined; and the mother grew pale and wan. They waned together. The child died first. The poor, lone, young mother seemed frantic; and refused to part with her idol. After the little thing was made ready for the tomb, she would not suffer it to be removed. It was laid upon the bed, beside her. On the following day, I carried the coffin to the house; and, leaving it below, went up, with a kind neighbor, to the chamber, hoping to prevail upon the poor thing, to permit us to remove the body of the child. She was holding her little boy, clasped in her arms--their lips were joined together--'It is a pity to awaken her,' said the neighbor, who attended me--I put my hand upon her forehead--'Nothing but the last trump will awaken her,' said I--'she is dead.'"

"Well, Martin," said I, "pray let us talk of something else--where is old Isaac Johnson, the founder of the city, who was buried, in this lot, in 1630?"--"Ah"--the old man replied--"the prophets, where are _they_! I believe you may as well look among the embers, after a conflagration, for the original spark."

"You must know many curious things, Martin," said I, "concerning this ancient temple."--"I do," said he, "of my own knowledge, and still more, by tradition; and some things, that neither the wardens nor vestry wot of.

If I thought I might trust you, Abner, in a matter of such moment, but"--"Did I ever deceive you, Martin," said I, "while living; and do you think I would take advantage of your confidence, now you are a ghost?"--"Pardon me, Abner," he replied, for he saw, that he had wounded my feelings, "but the matter, to which I allude, were it made public, would produce terrible confusion--but I will trust you--meet me here, at ten minutes before twelve, on Sabbath night--three low knocks upon the outer door--at present I can reveal no more."--"No postponement, on account of the weather?" I inquired.--"None," the old man replied, and locked up the tomb.

"Did you ever see Dr. Caner," I inquired, as we ascended into the body of the church.--"That," replied Martin Smith, "is rather a delicate question.

In the very year, in which I was born, 1776, the Rev. Doctor Henry Caner, then an old man, carried off the church plate, 2800 ounces of silver, the gift of three kings; of which not a particle has ever been recovered: and, in lieu thereof, he left behind his fervent prayers, that G.o.d would "_change the hearts of the rebels_." This the Almighty has never seen fit to do--so that the society have not only lost the silver, but the benefit of Dr. Caner's prayers. No, Abner, I have never seen Dr. Caner, according to the flesh, but--ask me nothing further, on this highly exciting subject, till we meet again."

I awoke, sorely disturbed--Martin had vanished.

No. LXXVIII.

I know not why, but the idea of another meeting with Martin Smith, notwithstanding my affectionate respect, for that good old man, disturbed me so much, that I resolved, to be out of his way, by keeping awake. But, in defiance of my very best efforts, strengthened by a bowl of unsugared hyson, at half past eleven, if I err not, I fell into a profound slumber; and, at the very appointed moment, found myself, at the Chapel door. At the third knock, it opened, with an almost alarming suddenness--I quietly entered--and the old man closed it softly, after me.

"In ten minutes," said he, "the congregation will a.s.semble."--"What," I inquired, "at this time of night?"--"Be silent," said he, rather angrily, as I thought; and, drawing me, by the arm, to the north side of the door, he shoved me against the Va.s.sal monument, with a force, that I would not have believed it possible, for any modern ghost to exert. "Be still and listen," said he. "In 1782, my dear, old pastor, Dr. Freeman, came here, as Reader; and became Rector, in 1787. Dr. Caner was inducted, in 1747, and continued Rector, twenty-nine years; for, as I told you, he went off with the plate, in 1776. There were no Rectors, between those two.

Brockwell and Troutbeck were Caner's a.s.sistants only: the first died in 1755, and the last left, the year before Dr. Caner."

"Well," continued the old man, "never reveal what I am about to tell you, Abner Wycherly--the Trinitarians have never surrendered their claims, upon this Church; and, precisely at midnight, upon every Sabbath, since 1776, Dr. Caner and the congregation have gathered here; and the Church service has been performed, just as it used to be, before the revolution. They make short work of it, rarely exceeding fifteen minutes--hush, for your life--they are coming!"

A glare of unearthly light, invisible through the windows, as Martin a.s.sured me, to all without, filled the tabernacle, in an instant--exceedingly like gas light; and, at the same instant, I heard a rattling, resembling the down-sitting, after prayers, in a village meeting-house, where the seats are clappers, and go on hinges. Observing, that my jaws chattered, Martin pressed my hand in his icy fingers, and whispered, that it was nothing but Dr. Caner's congregation, coming up, rather less silently, of course, than when they were in the flesh.

Being the first Sunday in the month, all the communion plate, that Caner carried off, was paraded, on the altar. I wish the twelve apostles could have seen it. It glittered, like Jones, Ball & Poor's bow-window, viewed from the old, Donnison corner. The whole interior of the Chapel was marvellously changed. I was much struck, by a showy, gilt crown, over the organ, supported by a couple of gilt mitres. This was the famous organ, said to have been selected by Handel, and which came over in 1756.

At this moment, a brief and sudden darkness hid everything from view; succeeded, instantly, by a brighter light than before; and all was changed. The organ had vanished; the monuments of Shirley and Apthorp, and the tablet of Price, over the vestry door, were gone; I looked behind me, for the Va.s.sal monument, against which I had been leaning; it was no longer there. Martin Smith perceived my astonishment, and whispered, that Dr. Caner was never so partial to the Stone Chapel, which was opened in 1754, as he was to the ancient King's Chapel, in which he had been inducted in 1747, and in which we then were.

The pews were larger than any Hingham boxes I ever saw; but very small.

The pulpit was on the north side. In front of it was the governor's pew, highly ornamented, lined with China silk; the cushions and chairs therein were covered with crimson damask, and the window curtain was of the same material. Near to this, I saw an elevated pew, in which were half a dozen fine looking skeletons, with their heads up and their arms akimbo. This pew, Martin informed me, was reserved, for the officers of the army and navy. A small organ was in the western gallery, said to be the first, ever heard in our country. From the walls and pillars, hung several escutcheons and armorial bearings. I distinguished those of the royal family, and of Andros, Nicholson, Hamilton, Dudley, Shute, Belcher, and Shirley.

I had always a.s.sociated the _hour-gla.s.s_ with my ideas of a Presbyterian pulpit, in the olden time, when the very length of the discourse gave the hearer some little foretaste of eternity. I was rather surprised to see an hour-gla.s.s, of large proportions, perched upon the pulpit, in its highly ornamented stand of bra.s.s. The altar-piece was at the easterly end of the Church, with the Glory, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, and some texts of Scripture.

The congregation had taken their seats; and a slender, sickly looking skeleton glided into the reading desk. "Dr. Caner?" said I. "Brockwell, the a.s.sistant," replied Martin, in a whisper, "the very first wardens, of 1686, are in the pew, tonight, Bullivant and Banks. They all serve in rotation. Next Sabbath, we shall have Foxcroft and Ravenscroft. Clerke Hill, and Rutley are s.e.xtons, tonight."

The services were very well conducted; and, taking all things into consideration, I was surprised, that I comprehended so well, as I did. The prayer, for the royal family, was very impressively delivered. The a.s.sistant made use, I observed, of the Athanasian creed, and every one seemed to understand it, at which I was greatly surprised. Dr. Caner seemed very feeble, and preached a very short discourse upon the loss of Esau's birthright, making a pointed application, to the conversion of King's Chapel, by the Unitarians. He made rather a poor case of it, I thought. Martin was so much offended, that he said, though being a ghost, he was obliged to be quiet, he wished I would call the watch, and break up the meeting. I told him, that I did not believe Dr. Caner's arguments would have any very mischievous effect; and it seemed not more than fair, that these ancient worshippers should have the use of the church, at midnight, so long as they conducted themselves orderly--consumed no fuel--and furnished their own light.

One of the s.e.xtons, pa.s.sing near me, accidentally dropped a small parcel.

I was seized with a vehement desire of possessing it; and, watching my opportunity, conveyed it to my pocket. When Dr. Caner p.r.o.nounced his final amen, light was instantly turned into darkness--a slight noise ensued--"_the service is over!_" said Martin, and all was still. I begged Martin to light his lamp; and, by its light, I examined the parcel the s.e.xton had dropped. It was a small roll, containing some extracts from the records. They were not without interest. "Sept. 21, 1691.--It must not be forgot that Sir Robert Robertson gave a new silk damask cushion and cloth pulpit-cover." "1697.--Whit Sunday. Paid Mr. Coneyball, for buying and carting Poses and hanging the Doares 8s." "Dec. 20.--Paid for a stone Gug Clark Hill broak." "March 29, 1698.--Paid Mr. Shelson for Loucking after the Boyes 1." "1701, Aug. 4.--Paid for scouring the bra.s.s frame for the hour-gla.s.s 10s." "1733, Oct. 11.--Voted that the Bra.s.s Stand for the hour-gla.s.s be lent to the church of Scituate, as also three Diaper napkins, provided Mr. Addington Davenport, their minister, gives his note to return the same to the Church wardens of the Church, &c." "April 3, 1740.--Rec'd of Mr. Sylvester Gardner Sixteen Pounds Two Shills, in full for wine for the Chapple for the year past. John Hanc.o.c.k."

I was about to put this fragment of the record into my pocket--"If," said Martin, "you do not particularly covet a visit from Clark Hill, or whichever of the old s.e.xtons it was, that dropped that paper, leave it, as you found it." I did so, most joyfully.

"If you have any questions to ask of me," said the old man, "ask them now, and briefly, for we are about to part--to meet no more, until we meet, as I trust we shall, in a better world." "As a mere matter of curiosity,"

said I, "I should like to know, if you consider your venerable pastor, now dead and gone, Dr. Freeman, as the successor of Saint Peter?" "No more,"

said Martin Smith, with an expression almost too comical for a ghost, "than I consider you and myself successors of the s.e.xton, who, under the directions of Abraham, buried Sarah, in the cave of the field of Machpelah, before Mamre." "Do you consider the Apostolical succession broken off, at the time of Dr. Freeman's ordination?" "Short off, like a pipe stem," he replied. "And so you do not consider the laying on of a Bishop's hand necessary, to empower a man to preach the Gospel?" "No more," said he, "than I consider the laying on of spades, necessary to empower a man, to dig a grave. We were a peculiar people, but quite as zealous for good works, as any of our neighbors. The Bishop of New York declined to ordain our pastor, because we were Unitarians; and we could not expect this service from our neighbors, had it been otherwise, on account of our adherence to the Liturgy, though modified, and to certain Episcopal forms--so we ordained him ourselves. The senior warden laid his hands upon the good man and true--said nothing of the thirty-nine articles--but gave him a Bible, as the sole compa.s.s for his voyage, in full confidence, that, while he steered thereby, we should be upon our course, to the haven, where we would be. We have never felt the want of the succession, for a moment, and, ever since, we have been a most happy and u----."

Just then a distant steam whistle struck upon the ear, which Martin, undoubtedly, mistook, for c.o.c.k-crowing--for his lamp was extinguished, in an instant, and he vanished.

If my confidence in dreams needed any confirmation, nothing more could be required, than a careful comparison of many of these incidents, with the statements, in the history of King's Chapel, published by the late, amiable Rector, seventeen years ago. A copy is, at this moment, beneath my eye; and, upon the fly leaf, in the author's own hand writing, under date Jan. 1, 1843, I read--"_Presented to Martin Smith, for many years, a s.e.xton of this church, from his friend F. W. P. Greenwood_." Aye; every one was the _friend_ of good old Martin Smith. Here, deposited among the leaves of this book, is an order, from that excellent man, my honored friend, Colonel Joseph May, then junior warden. It bears date "Sat.u.r.day, 18 June, 1814." It is laconic, and to the point. "_Toll slow!_" This also is subscribed "_Your friend_."

Yes, every one was the friend of Martin Smith. He was a spruce, little, old man--especially at Christmas.

No. LXXIX.

Nothing can be more entirely unfounded, than the popular notion, that circ.u.mstantial evidence is an inferior quality of proof. The most able writers, on the law of evidence, have always maintained the contrary.

Sir William Blackstone and Sir Matthew Hale, it is true, have expressed the very just and humane opinion, that circ.u.mstantial evidence should be weighed with extreme caution; and the latter has expressly said, that, in trials, for murder and manslaughter, no conviction ought ever to be had, until the fact is clearly proven, or the body of the person, alleged to have been killed, has been discovered; for he stated, that two instances had occurred, within his own knowledge, in which, after the execution of the accused, the persons, supposed to have been murdered, had reappeared alive.

Probably, one of the most extraordinary cases of fatal confidence in circ.u.mstantial evidence, recorded, in the history of British, criminal jurisprudence, is that, commonly referred to, as the case of "_Hayes and Bradford_." In that case, a murder was certainly committed; the body of the murdered man was readily found; the murderer escaped; and, after many years, confessed the crime, in a dying hour; and another person, who had designed to commit the murder, but found his intended victim, already slain, was arrested, as the murderer; and, after an elaborate trial, suffered for the crime, upon the gallows.

There is a case in the criminal jurisprudence of our own country, in all its strange particulars, far surpa.s.sing the British example, to which I have referred; and attended by circ.u.mstances, almost incredible, were the evidence and vouchers less respectable, than they are. I refer to the case of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, who were tried, for the murder of Russell Colvin, and convicted, before the Supreme Judicial Court of the State of Vermont, in October, 1819. In this remarkable case, it must be observed, that the Judges appeared to have acted, in utter disregard of that merciful caution of Sir Matthew Hale, to which I have alluded; and that these miserable men were rescued, from their impending fate, in a most remarkable manner.

It is my purpose to present a clear and faithful account of this occurrence; and, to enable the reader to go along with me, step by step, with perfect confidence, in a matter, in which, from the marvellous character of the circ.u.mstances, to doubt would be extremely natural, I will first exhibit the sources, from which the elements of this narrative are drawn. I. The public journals of the day, published in Vermont. II.

"Mystery developed, &c., by the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, Hartford, 1820." III.

A sermon, on the occasion, by the same. IV. "A brief sketch of the Indictment, Trial, and Conviction of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, for the murder of Russell Colvin, by S. Putnam Waldo, Hartford." V. "A Collection of remarkable events, by Leonard Deming. Middlebury, 1825." VI. "Journals of the General a.s.sembly of the State of Vermont, for 1819, October session," in which, page 185, may be found the minutes of the testimony, taken on the trial, and certified up, by Judge Chace, to the Legislature, by request, on pet.i.tion, for a commutation of punishment. VII. Law Reporter, published in Boston, vol. v. page 193. VIII. Trial of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, Rutland, 1820. IX. Remarks thereon, N. A. Review, vol. x.

page 418. X. Greenleaf's Treatise on Evidence, vol. i. page 320, note 2.

XI. Cooley's Memoir of Rev. Lemuel Haynes, N. Y., 1839.

In the village of Manchester, Bennington County, and State of Vermont, there resided in 1812, an old man, whose name was Barney Boorn, who had two sons, Stephen and Jesse, and a daughter Sarah, who had married Russell Colvin. Like the conies of the Bible, these people were _a feeble folk_--their mental powers were slender--they grew up in ignorance--their lot was poverty. Colvin, in particular, was, notoriously, an _imbecile_.

He had been, for a long period, partially deranged. He was incompetent to manage the concerns of his family. He moved about in an idle, wandering way, and was perfectly inoffensive; and the wilful destruction of such a man would have been the murder of an _innocent_.

In May, 1812, Russell Colvin was missing from home. This, in consideration of his uncertain habits, occasioned, at first, but little surprise. But his continued absence, for days, and weeks, and months, produced very considerable excitement, in the village of Manchester. This excitement naturally increased, with the term of his absence; and the contagion began, ere long, to catch upon the neighboring towns; until the most exciting topic of the day, throughout that portion of the Hampshire Grants, in the absence of mad dogs and revivals, was the mysterious disappearance of Russell Colvin.

Rumors began to spread, from lip to lip. Suspicion, like a hungry leech--"a German one"--fastened upon the Boorns. Nor was this suspicion groundless. Thomas Johnson, a neighbor of all the parties, a credible witness, who swore to the facts, seven years after, on the trial, reported, that the last time he saw Russell Colvin was immediately before his remarkable disappearance, and that he and the Boorns were then quarrelling, while engaged in picking up stones.

Lewis Colvin, the son of Russell, with manifest reluctance, stated, that, just before his father's disappearance, a quarrel took place, between his father and Stephen--that his father struck Stephen first--that Stephen then knocked his father down twice with a club--that he, the boy, was frightened and ran away--that Stephen told him never to mention what had happened--and that he had never seen his father since.

Here, doubtless, was legitimate ground, for suspicion, and the village of Manchester, on the Battenkill, was in a state of universal fermentation--the very atmosphere seemed redolent of murder. It is marvellous, in what manner the Boorns escaped from being lynched, without trial; and, more especially, how Stephen was preserved, from the fate of his namesake, the martyr. A shortlived calm followed this tempest of popular feeling--parties were formed--some were sure the Boorns were the murderers of Colvin--some were inclined to believe they were not. The Boorns continued to dwell in the village, _without any effort to escape_; and the evidence against them was not deemed legally sufficient then, even to authorize their arrest.

It appeared, upon the statement of Mrs. Colvin, that Stephen and Jesse, her brothers, had told her, upon a certain occasion, that she might be satisfied her husband was dead, and that _they knew it_. This additional fact gave fresh impulse to the popular excitement.

In such miserable society, as may be supposed to have remained to these suspected men, it is not wonderful, that they should often have encountered the most unsparing allusions, and vulgar interrogatories--nor that they should have met this species of persecution, with equally vulgar and unflinching replies. It became well established, ere long, upon the declarations of a Mr. Baldwin and his wife, that, when asked where Colvin had gone, one of the Boorns replied, that he had "_gone to h.e.l.l_"--and the other that he had "_gone where potatoes would not freeze_."