The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-01-05
For the National Era.
NEW ENGLAND SKETCHES.
SALEM AND HAWTHORNE.

A clear, cold Thanksgiving day, the Jolly
Thanksgiving dinner, and III the dusky after
noon walk through the quiet streets, down
by the Wondering wharyos, IL the still old city
of Salem
Instead of the great East Indiamen, rich with
the riches Of Eac Orieoy, heavily laden with
pepper from Su.n2tra a12 cinnamon from Cev-
lon or with tens and silks from China, nov,
nothing but some little coasting schoo1ers, "
ing lazily in the smooth barber, or mgoIed be-
side the wharyes, diechlsgiog their piles of
lumber from Bangor, or tons of sea coal from
Pietou, and here ami there dismal brig, Just
arrived from Buen9s Ayre5 or from the African
coast, with cargo of horns and hides.
The great square mansjon-housas on the
street above, once tenauted by the Salem n1er-
chant princes of the Revolutionary times-the
spacious warehouses, once filed with almost
priceless treasures the gloomy street - the
long struggling wharves-aIl fast hurrying to
decay.
In place of the bluff sea captains, the minia-
ture Sir William Phippses of the colony-in
place of the sturdy nariners--in place Of the
comlortable-looking2 nabobs of the old days
who once thronged Derby streot-noT. 10 one
but here and there the lazy skipper Of some
fishing smack, q trOup Of ragged Irish children
and brazen- faced Swiss vagrant, beating out
a sorry tune on her tambourine.
There is something very gloomy, and yet
very interesting, in the light of the commercial
portions of this old ciey of Salem They bring
up bright Visions of fifty years ago" when the
town was rich and prosperous when every port
of the islands of the Indian ocean was tenantad
by its ships, when the bluff sea captains smoked
their big pipes and drank their strong punch
at the Sun tavern, when the rough sailors
swOre their round Spanish Oaths, when good
old Doctor Bentley preached with holy fervor
his earnest sermons beneath the sounding
board in the old East church, and when the
rooster on the East church steeple first shone
before the eyes of our grandfathers in all the
glow Of its respondent gliding
Hawthorne had not to seek long nor far
amidst the decay Of Salem. after material for
his charming tales. There ne was, in the midst
of it all in the great brick custom house on
the dilapidated street, haunted by such ghosts
as those of old King Derby or rich Billy GRAY.
There, but at the distance of 9 short walk from
where he lately Gwelt, stands the North bridge.
where the first blood Of the Revolution was
shed, ing before the battle Of Lexington, by
the British soldiers of Col. Leslie pricking with
their bayonets the resolute Salemites, who.
having raised the drawbridge, did not hesitate
to staye their boats to prevent the enemy from
crossing the narrow stream. There, within a
stones throw from the same dwelling, stands
the ancient mansion in which the witch courts
were held, and Ia whose rooms many poor
woman, more innocent than her Judge, has
been condemned to death. There in the court
house, are still preserved some of the pins with
which the Salem witches were sworn to have
tormented their victims and many of the orr
ginal legal proceedings against them are still
there, torn, and darkened by age Years ago,
used often to make demands upon the good
nature of the clerks of the courts, by my re-
peated requests 10 look at these quaint docu-
nents, and a troop Of US schoolb3ys often spent
a hoyday afternoon in porting over the faded
yellow parchuents. 1t must have been 3 strange
sight TO the clerk, if he ever thought of it, to
see the brighteyed, fresh-cheeked urchins de- |
,iphering with Curiosity the solemn records of
heir great-grandfa Tiers guilt but sadly fear
hat that worthy functionsry's head was sell |
iom troubled by any thought more profound |
han that of getting q Shilling apiece for his |
signatures to legal documents Of moro modern |
,ourts than those which tried the witches. A |
passage in one Of these witch papers paFticu- !