Tag Archives: Seventeenth Century

A White Robe of Roofs

Every time I was in range of a radio yesterday there was a story about collapsing roofs.  Of course, most were flat roofs (I keep wanting to write rooves, but apparently that is not done anymore), covering modern commercial structures.  Our colonial predecessors had other ideas, and their steep, sloping roofs seem to be bearing up pretty well under all the snow—now and for the past 350 years or so.  Here are some pictures I took over the past few snowy days of some of Salem’s first period houses:  the Narbonne House, the so-called “Witch House” (more accurately designated the Jonathan Corwin House), the Peabody Essex Museum’s John Ward House, and the House of the Seven Gables (also known as the Turner-Ingersoll House).

For the sake of comparison (of both season and era), the same houses are featured below in a series of photographs from the Historic American Building Survey, a New Deal project in which photographers, architects, and draftsmen were put  to work documenting historic structures  for the National Park Service.  While the Narbonne house and the Gables look quite similar, the Jonathan Corwin house would be unrecognizable without its Old Witch house sign, as this was more than a decade before Historic Salem, Inc. removed the attached storefront in the process of a comprehensive restoration. In a turn-of-the-century photography by the Detroit Publishing Company, the John Ward house is pictured in its original location (St. Peter’s Street) just before its move to its present site.


Regicides

On this day in 1649 King Charles I of England was executed in London, marking the first procedural regicide in European history.  After two civil wars, intrigues with both the Scots and the Irish, and numerous protestations that he was above the law,  Parliament put the King on trial, found him guilty, and executed him.  This was obviously a momentous moment in British and world history, but it had a local angle as well:  eleven years after the execution of Charles, with his son newly enthroned, Hugh Peter, the fourth pastor of the First Church of Salem from 1636-41, was himself executed after his identification as one of the royal regicides.

Hugh Peter (s)

How did a colonial pastor find himself on a London scaffold?   The answer lies in his passionate Puritanism and his close personal connection to Oliver Cromwell, victorious leader of the Parliamentary army in the Civil Wars and then ruler of all England in the “interregnum” between the death of Charles and the restoration of his son Charles II.  Peter traveled to England in 1641 as an agent of the colonial government and remained, serving successively as a very vocal chaplain to the army and to Cromwell himself.  After the defeat and death of Charles, a collective cult of remorse developed in England, and Cromwell’s public perception changed from that of liberator to tyrant. With the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660, anyone who had any direct association with Cromwell was in danger, and so Peter fell into the net.

THE CULT  OF CHARLES I:        The King’s speech before dying, Royalist memorial jewelry (pendant with Charles I and Charles II and ring), and anonymous late seventeenth-century portrait of Charles as divine-right ruler ( National Portrait Gallery, London).

          

 

 

THE DEMONIZATION OF OLIVER CROMWELL:  two 1660 pamphlets from the British Library, demonizing Cromwell and his Cabinet by association.  At right, Hugh Peter (L) has his back to us.

 

I’m not sure why Hugh Peter remained in England after the Restoration.  He had certainly made his mark in New England, preaching, acquiring lots of land,  forging strong political connections, and participating in the trial of Anne Hutchinson—why not return?  Perhaps he thought he was safe, as he was not one of the 59 signers of Charles’ death warrant.  Perhaps he simply didn’t have time to leave, as his arrest, imprisonment and trial followed very shortly after the accession of Charles II.  He was vigorously attacked in the pamphlet press at the time (one pamphleteer even accused him of being Charles I’s masked executioner, as he was not present at the proceedings) and his prosecution was popular.  While in prison, he was visited every day by his Salem-born daughter Elizabeth, to whom he dedicated his final work, A Dying Fathers Last Legacy to an Onely Child,  which was published shortly after his death(by hanging, drawing and quartering) on 16 October 1660.

 

       


Taking Stock

Probate inventories are among the most valuable sources that historians have, offering detailed and even intimate information about the material lives of people in the past.  The inventory of one of Salem’s earliest settlers, the merchant and shopkeeper Captain George Corwin, who was born in 1610, came to Salem in 1638, and died on this day in 1685, is available in a transcribed and accessible form through the Library of Congress‘s digital archive.  Corwin was the father of the more famous (or infamous) George Corwin II, who was the High Sheriff of Essex Country during the Witch Trials, issuing arrest and execution warrants for its victims.  As evidenced by the inventory addendum to his will, Corwin senior was a wealthy man, with considerable property and possessions and a shop and several warehouses  full of stuff (which we would probably classify as “housewares” and  “hardware”) assessed at 5964 pounds, 19 shillings and one penny by his executors.  Through the inventory, one can not only access and assess Corwin’s business life but also gaze into every room in his “dwelling house” and see what clothing, furnishings, and personal possessions were there.  Of particular interest to me is the “red chamber”, furnished with eight “red branched chairs with covers”, a red carpet, and an old “cuperd” covered with red cloth.  The exhibit of a chamber from a 1680 house in nearby Ipswich (where there are more “First Period” houses than anywhere)  in the Metropolitan Museum of Art employs the color and evokes the mood.


Chilly Scenes of Winter

In the seventeenth century extreme weather, like eclipses, was still an expression of “wonder” or God’s will.  The winter of 1683-84 was an especially wonderful one, with the occurence of the “Frost Fair” enabled by the rarely frozen Thames River.  Nearly 20 years earlier, the amazing Robert Hooke, natural philosopher, mathmetician, architect, and the Surveyor of the City of London after the Great Fire, published amazing images of wonderful snowflakes in his Micrographia.

 

And finally today.  The view from my bedroom window:  looking westward on Chestnut Street, Salem, Massachusetts on the shortest day of 2010.


Celestial Happenings

The last lunar eclipse to occur on the Winter Solstice was in 1638—just a few years later this pamphlet by William Lilly (from the British Library’s Images Online Collection) heralded another “starry messenger” during the English Civil War: