Massachusetts

Wells-Thorn House, Deerfield, Massachusetts

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The Wells-Thorn House at the corner of Old Main Street and Memorial Street in Deerfield, in November 1959. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress, Historic American Buildings Survey Collection.

The house in 2023:

This house was built around 1747 as the home of Ebenezer Wells (1691-1758) and his wife Abigail Barnard (1691-1772). They had no children, but their household here included at least two enslaved people: Lucy Terry (c.1733-1821) and Caesar (baptized 1734). Lucy is best remembered today for being the author of the poem “Bars Fight,” earliest known work of African American literature. The poem memorializes those who were killed during a 1746 Native American raid on a group of families that were working in the meadows, or “bars,” near the village. It seems unclear when the poem was first put down on paper, but it remained an oral tradition for more than a century before it was published by Josiah Gilbert Holland in his 1855 book History of Western Massachusetts. According to Holland, the poem reads:

August ’twas the twenty-fifth,
Seventeen hundred forty-six;
The Indians did in ambush lay,
Some very valient men to slay,
The names of whom I’ll not leave out.
Samuel Allen like a hero fout,
And though he was so brave and bold,
His face no more shall we behold.
Eleazer Hawks was killed outright,
Before he had time to fight,—
Before he did the Indians see,
Was shot and killed immediately.
Oliver Amsden he was slain,
Which caused his friends much grief and pain.
Simeon Amsden they found dead,
Not many rods distant from his head.
Adonijah Gillett we do hear
Did lose his life which was so dear.
John Sadler fled across the water,
And thus escaped the dreadful slaughter.
Eunice Allen see the Indians coming,
And hopes to save herself by running,
And had not her petticoats stopped her,
The awful creatures had not catched her,
Nor tommy hawked her on her head,
And left her on the ground for dead.
Young Samuel Allen, Oh lack-a-day!
Was taken and carried to Canada.

Because the raid happened only a year or so before this house was built, it is possible that Lucy was living in the house when she composed the poem. But either way, she appears to have lived here until at least 1756, when she married Abijah Prince, a free Black man who was from Curaçao. An article written by the Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Association suggests that the wedding may have occurred here in this house, as was customary for the time. Lucy appears to have gained her freedom around this time, and she and Abijah lived on the eastern part of the Wells property early in their marriage. By 1764, they had moved to Guilford, Vermont, where they owned land. Abijah died in 1794, and Lucy eventually moved to Sunderland, Vermont, where she died in 1821.

In the meantime, Ebenezer and Abigail Wells lived here until Ebenezer’s death in 1758. He left the house to his nephew Ebenezer Wells (1730-1783), and Abigail subsequently moved to Northampton. The younger Ebenezer lived here for the rest of his life, as did his wife Mercy Bardwell (1737-1801). Their son David then inherited the property, but sold it to lawyer Hezekiah W. Strong (1768-1848).

Strong repainted the house to a bright robins egg blue color, evidently in the hopes of drawing attention to his law practice. However, he only remained in town for a few years, and he sold it in 1804 to John Dwight. The house was later owned by the Ware family for most of the 19th century, and then in 1905 it was sold to Edwin (1874-1920) and Luanna (1874-1965) Thorn. Edwin was a physician, but both he and Luanna were involved in the Deerfield Arts & Crafts movement. They produced colonial-inspired household goods, including furniture and textiles, and they sold them out of a shop here in their home.

Edwin Thorn died in 1920, but Luanna outlived him by many decades. She was still living in the house when the top photo was taken in 1959, as part of the documentation of the house by the Historic American Buildings Survey. She eventually sold the property to Historic Deerfield in 1962, and the house has since been restored and opened to the public as a museum. On the interior, each room is decorated to match a different time period, beginning in the early 18th century and going through the mid 19th century. On the exterior, the house has been painted the same shade of blue that Hezekiah Strong had used in the early 19th century, as shown in the 2023 photo.

John Nims House, Deerfield, Massachusetts

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The house at 58 Old Main Street in Deerfield, on July 24, 1930. Image courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leon Abdalian Collection.

The house in 2023:

These two photos show the Nims House, which is one of the many historic homes that line Old Main Street in Deerfield. The exact date of construction is unclear, but it stands on the site of an earlier home that was owned by Godfrey Nims in the late 17th century. The earlier house was burned during the February 29, 1704 raid on Deerfield, and three of his children died in the fire. Most of his surviving family members were taken captive and marched to Canada, and his wife Mehitable died several days into the march. Godfrey himself was not taken captive, but he died just a year later, in 1705.

The current house is traditionally said to have been built around 1710 by Godfrey’s son John Nims, who had been among the captives. He survived the ordeal and returned to Deerfield, where he married his wife Elizabeth Hull in 1707. However, recent dendrochronological analysis by William Flynt of Historic Deerfield has called this date into question. The timbers in the house reflected a wide range of ages, but indicated that the house could have been built no earlier than the early 1720s, and probably had significant alterations done in the 1740s. The gambrel roof is not original to the house, but rather was added sometime around the early 1790s.

Regardless of exactly when it was constructed, the house would remain in the Nims family for many generations. During the early 19th century it was owned by Seth Nims, who operated a post office here in the house from around 1816 until his death in 1831. The house was ultimately sold out of the family in 1894.

The top photo was taken in 1930, showing both the Nims house and also the neighboring Barnard Tavern in the distance on the left. A few years later, in 1936, the house was purchased by Nims descendants who, in turn, donated it to Deerfield Academy in 1938. The house is still owned by the school, and it serves as a faculty residence. As shown in the bottom photo, the house has seen only minimal changes since the top photo was taken nearly a century ago.

Barnard Tavern, Deerfield, Massachusetts

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The Barnard Tavern and adjacent Frary House in Deerfield, around 1920. Image from An Architectural Monograph on Old Deerfield (1920).

The scene in 2023:


This building stands on the east side of Old Main Street in Deerfield, just south of the common in the historic town center. It consists of two separate but adjacent structures, with the Frary House in the distance on the left and the Barnard Tavern here in the foreground. The Frary House is the older of the two sections, dating to around the 1750s, and the tavern was constructed around 1795.

As was the case with late 18th and early 19th century taverns across New England, the Barnard Tavern was not only a place for travelers to stop and have a meal or spend the night; it was also an important community hub for locals, and it was frequently used as a gathering place. The building had the bar room and kitchen on the first floor, while the upper floor housed a large assembly room that was used for a variety of meetings and other public events.

By the late 19th century, both buildings were in poor condition. However, in 1890 the property was purchased by teacher, historian, and author C. Alice Baker (1833-1909). Originally from Springfield, Baker had attended Deerfield Academy. During the 1850s she taught at a school in Illinois, and then at Deerfield Academy, and then started her own school in Chicago. She subsequently returned east, and became active in studying local history, particularly the history of Deerfield. She never married, but she lived with another woman, Susan Lane, who was described in contemporary sources as her “lifelong companion.” After purchasing this building in Deerfield, Baker worked to restore it, and she made the Frary House side into her home.

The restored Frary House/Barnard Tavern became an important landmark in Deerfield, and it was often photographed in publications about the town, as was the case with the top photo around 1920. The building was at one point owned by the Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Association, but it is now owned by Historic Deerfield. It is one of the many properties that the organization has preserved, and both halves of the building are open to the public for guided tours on a regular basis.

Allen House, Deerfield, Massachusetts

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The Allen House at 104 Old Main Street in Deerfield, on July 24, 1930. Image courtesy of the Boston Public Library, Leon Abdalian Collection.

The house in 2023:

These two photographs show the Allen House, a saltbox-style home that was built sometime around 1734 based on tree ring analysis. It was originally the home of Thomas Bardwell. It has been heavily altered over the years, and was originally smaller, prior to the addition of the “saltbox” lean-to on the back of the house in the late 18th or early 19th centuries. According to the MACRIS inventory form for the house, it underwent a major remodel in 1832, which included the removal of the central chimney and a reconstruction of the interior to convert it into a two-family home.

The top photo was taken nearly a century later in 1930, and it shows the house in its altered appearance. By this point it was the home of sisters Frances and Mary Allen, who had lived here since the 19th century. Born in the 1850s, they grew up in Deerfield and became teachers, but they both had to leave the profession in their 30s because progressive deafness. Unable to teach, they instead took up photography, and they became two of the most prominent female photographers in the country during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The town of Deerfield was a frequent subject of their work, which often depicted scenes of old houses and pastoral landscapes, along with images of their family and neighbors.

Frances and Mary Allen never married, and they lived here until 1941, when they died just four days apart from each other at the ages of 86 and 82, respectively. The house was subsequently purchased by Henry and Helen Flynt, the founders of Historic Deerfield. They brought the design of the house back to a colonial-era appearance in 1945, although this restoration was largely conjectural due to the substantial alterations in 1832. Some of the design elements appear to have been based more on personal preference, including the ornate front doorway that replaced the 1830s-style door and sidelights from the top photo. The new doorway reflected the style that was used on many homes in the Connecticut River Valley during the mid-18th century, but there is no indication that this particular house ever had such a doorway.

Today, the house still stands here on Old Main Street, as shown in the bottom photo. Aside from the new doorway, the most noticeable exterior change from this angle is the central chimney, which was reconstructed as part of the 1945 restoration. The house is now one of the many historic homes on Old Main Street that is owned by Historic Deerfield, and it is periodically open to the public for tours.

Joseph Barnard House, Deerfield, Massachusetts

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The Joseph Barnard House, also known as the Willard House or the Old Manse, on Old Main Street in Deerfield, around 1920. Image from An Architectural Monograph on Old Deerfield (1920).

The house in 2023:

Old Main Street in Deerfield is one of the best-preserved colonial-era town centers in New England, and it features many excellent examples of 18th and early 19th century architecture. However, this house stands out as perhaps the finest of these, representing sophisticated Georgian architecture here in what was, at the time, a very rural part of colonial Massachusetts.

The house was constructed starting in 1769, and it was completed in 1772. It was designed and built by Jonas Locke, and the original owner of the house was Joseph Barnard, a wealthy local merchant. Whether he actually lived here seems unclear, though, and he may have built it for his son Samuel. In any case, the house was owned by the Barnard family until 1794, when it was sold to Ebenezer Williams. He eventually sold it in 1811 to the Rev. Samuel Willard, for $3,333.

Rev. Willard was the nephew of Harvard president Joseph Willard, and he had become the pastor of the church in Deerfield in 1807. It was during his pastorate that, in 1824, the church constructed its brick meetinghouse that still stands across the street from his house. However, Willard retired from his position at the church in 1829 due to progressive blindness. He briefly moved to Hingham, but then returned to Deerfield and lived here in this house until his death in 1859.

The top photo shows the house in the early 20th century. By that point, the house had apparently undergone some alterations, including the installation of exterior shutters and 6-over-6 windows, along with 2-over-2 dormer windows, none of were likely to have been original to the house. However, the exterior has since been restored, and today the house has 12-over-12 windows, in keeping with colonial-era architecture. The house is now owned by Deerfield Academy, and it serves as the residence for the head of school.

John Jack Gravestone, Concord, Massachusetts

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The gravestone of John Jack at Old Hill Burying Ground in Concord, around 1904. Image from The History of Concord, Massachusetts (1904).

The gravestone in 2023:

It is rare to find surviving colonial-era gravestones for African Americans in New England. Although the region had a sizeable population of enslaved and free people of color during this time, most were buried in unmarked graves, often on the far edges of the town burial grounds. The few gravestones that do exist for enslaved people were apparently commissioned by the families that enslaved them, with inscriptions that often describe them as being their “servant.”

In this regard, the gravestone for John Jack is particularly unusual. Rather than simply identifying him as the servant of a master, the inscription tells the story of his enslavement and subsequent freedom, and in the process it delivers a striking rebuke of the institution of slavery. It reads:

God wills us free, man wills us slaves.
I will as God wills Gods will be done.
Here lies the body of
JOHN JACK.
A native of Africa who died
March 1773, aged about 60 years.
Tho’ born in a land of slavery,
He was born free.
Tho’ he lived in a land of liberty,
He lived a slave,
Till by his honest, tho’ stolen labors,
He acquired the source of slavery
Which gave him his freedom,
Tho’ not long before,
Death the grand tyrant
Gave him his final emancipation,
And set him on a footing with kings.
Tho’ a slave to vice,
He practised these virtues
Without which kings are but slaves.

As the epitaph indicates, John Jack was born in Africa, probably sometime around 1713. At some point he was kidnapped and sold into slavery, and by the 1750s he was in Concord, where he was enslaved to Benjamin Barron, a shoemaker. As an enslaved man, he did not have a surname. Instead, he was referred to in many historical records simply as Jack, or as Jack Negro. Barron died in 1754, and the inventory of his property included Jack, who was valued at 120 pounds, along with “One Negro maid named Vilot, being of no vallue.”

Jack later purchased his freedom, and by 1761 he had acquired enough wealth to become a landowner. That year, he purchased four acres from Benjamin’s daughter Susanna Barron, and he also purchased two more acres from another seller around the same time. He later bought another two and  half acres and built his house on it. According to the 1902 essay John Jack, the Slave and Daniel Bliss, the Tory by George Tolman, John Jack did a variety of work for local farmers, including assisting with haying and pig slaughtering, and he also supposed himself by repairing shoes, a skill that he had likely learned during his time in slavery.

He died in March 1773, and in his will he left his entire estate “to Violet, a negro woman, commonly called Violet Barnes, and now dwelling with Susanna Barron of said Concord.” However, it seems unclear whether she actually benefitted from this bequest. Because she was still enslaved, she could not own property on her own, and any property given to her would instead have belonged to her enslaver.

John Jack’s death occurred right around the time that Revolutionary sentiment was rapidly growing in and around Boston. Many prominent figures spoke of ideals such as freedom and liberty, but in many cases they were also slaveowners, including Concord’s own minister, the Rev. William Emerson, who enslaved at least four people. This irony was not lost on some people, including Concord lawyer Daniel Bliss, who held loyalist views despite being the brother in law of Rev. Emerson, who was an outspoken patriot.

Shortly after John Jack’s death, Bliss commissioned this gravestone for him, and likely wrote the famous epitaph himself. The epitaph features a series of antithetical statements that, among other things, declare slavery to be a violation of God’s will and a contradiction to the values that the patriot leaders were expressing. There is a considerable amount of irony, such as how he was born free “in a land of slavery” but lived as a slave “in a land of liberty.” The epitaph also alludes to the “source of slavery,” (i.e. money), and how acquiring it ultimately resulted in gaining his freedom. But, despite his former status as a slave, the epitaph mentions how death is the great equalizer, and how he is now both slaves and kings ultimately share the same fate.

It did not take long for this epitaph to become famous. Supposedly, several British soldiers stopped by the burying ground on a visit to Concord in March 1775, and they copied the epitaph and sent it back across the Atlantic, where it was republished in British newspapers. By the late 18th century, the text of the epitaph was being published on a regular basis in American newspapers, especially after Massachusetts became the first state to abolish slavery in the 1780s. For example, Boston’s Independent Chronicle and the Universal Advertiser published it in 1791 at the request of a customer, who described it as “greatly admired by the curious, for its ingenious and striking antithesis.” This would continue into the 19th century, especially as abolitionist sentiment grew in the north.

The original gravestone stood here for nearly 50 years, but it was destroyed sometime in the late 1810s, evidently in an act of vandalism. The May 27, 1819 issue of the Middlesex Gazette reported that “[t]he following lines were inscribed on a stone, which was in good preservation, about two years since. Some person, or persons, however, from evil disposition, no doubt, have entirely demolished it.” The broken remains of the original stone laid here for about a decade, until lawyer Rufus Hosmer of Stow started an effort to replace it with a new stone. He and other members of the Middlesex County Bar Association collected funds, and around 1830 commissioned a new stone, which bears the same inscription as the original one. This is the stone that stands here today, and it is the one that is also shown in the top photo around the turn of the 20th century.

By the 1830s, the abolitionist movement had grown strong in Concord and in other places throughout New England. The new gravestone became an important symbol for local abolitionists, and the gravesite was maintained by Mary Rice, who planted lilies here, cleaned lichen off the gravestone, and trimmed the grass around the stone. In his 1902 essay, George Tolman described her as:

[A] little old gentlewoman who lived hard by; quaint in dress and blunt of speech, and with the kindest heart that ever beat; eccentric to a marked degree even among the eccentric people that Concord has always been popularly considered to abound in. She was devoted to all the “reform” causes of the day, and particularly to the anti-slavery movement, and was an active and enthusiastic agent of the “Underground Railway,” an institution by the way, of which Concord was one of the principal station. Many a fugitive found refuge, and, if needed, concealment, in her cottage or from her scanty purse was furnished the means to help him onward toward a free country. To her the epitaph of John Jack had a meaning; it was more than a mere series of brilliant antitheses; it was a prophecy and a promise. The humble grave upon the hillside was a holy sepulchre; its nameless tenant was the prophet and Messiah of the gospel of freedom.

Today, nearly 200 years after the replacement stone was installed here, it remains in good condition. It is made of durable slate, and its inscription is still easily legible, although the lighting was not ideal in the bottom photo. It stands as an important reminder of the history of slavery in New England, and of the contradictions that many Americans dealt with in trying to reconcile the revolutionary-era ideals of freedom and liberty with the practice of slavery. At the end of his essay on the gravestone, George Tolman expressed this quite eloquently in contrasting the stone to the other famous monuments here in Concord:

In the public square at Concord stands a monument to the memory of her sons who, in the late civil war, gave up their lives in defence of the principle of national freedom and unity; by the side of her quiet river her noble Minute-man keeps his unceasing watch over the spot where her sons stood to defend the principle of national independence. Both of these monuments are typical of political, and, in a sense, local and restricted ideas, narrow principles touching merely institutions and policies. But earlier than either, over the grave of a nameless slave in her ancient burying ground, stands the plain gray slab of slate that typifies the far higher idea which is of the constitution of humanity itself,—the principle of individual personal liberty.

We look in vain in the writings of speeches of our patriot fathers for any enunciation of this principle, for any condemnation of slavery as a sin against the moral government of the world. That was reserved for the man they called a Tory,—the man who believed that personal freedom was the God-given birthright of humanity, and whose clear and intelligent vision pierced through the mists of future years to the glorious time when that birthright should be everywhere acknowledged.