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Local Landmarks of the Revolution
Electronic Publication Date: November 15, 2000

The approaching demolition of the old Church recently occupied by Dr. Flint's Society in Salem, and this being the only specimen remaining in this vicinity, of those ancient structures, affords an opportunity to call to mind associations connected with worship in those ancient tabernacles.

The style of building churches appears to have continued with but little alteration for more than half a century.  The same two or three story, plain exterior, the tower at one end and sometimes a porch at the other, the steeple and weather cock after the same time-honored pattern, seem to have continued until a very recent date. 

In the interior there was also but little change.  The pulpit on the broad side of the house - the sounding board suspended over it - the gallery on the remaining three sides - the square pews with high railings, and the deacon's seat in front of the pulpit - all these make a very correct description of the interior of almost any meeting house built in the last century in New England.

The furnishing of those old temples was as simple as their style of architecture.  Who does not remember the cheerless and uncomfortable appearance of the interior of one of those barn-like structures, especially in winter, when the clattering windows gave token of the raging blast without , in unison with the shivering congregation within? 

In those good old days, it was considered sinful to worship in a house made comfortable by artificial heat, except by the foot stoves which were carried by the boys for the use of their mothers and grandmothers.  At the time of the introduction of stoves into the Old South Meeting House in this town, although they were purchased by subscription, a parish meeting was called to see if the society would permit individuals to put these stoves into the house.

The services at that time were also unreasonably long and were never abbreviated on account of the severity of weather or the uneasiness of a shivering people.  Perhaps the circumstance may account for a complimentary term, formerly often used in describing a minister as a laborious, and painful preacher.  This was, be it remembered, long before the wholesome "one hour rule" was introduced into our legislative halls or the pulpit and lecture room.

The pews were also, so constructed as to be inconvenient and attended with great loss of room, besides obliging nearly half the occupants to sit with their backs to the pulpit.  The seats were hung on hinges to turn up in prayer time, and when this exercise was over, they were thrown down with a simultaneous slam like a discharge of musketry.  It was a favorite amusement with the young urchins of the congregation to prolong the fire by an extra slam or two of their seats, making the whole a pretty exact resemblance to the slovenly firing of a militia company on a training day. 

Another favorite pastime of the boys during prayer time was to turn the loose balusters which supported the top railing of the pews until the young rogues were discovered by a loud squeaking noise caused by their ungreased fiction.

On the pulpit there was usually an exact copy of the style of its own age.  At one time they were all of oak, unpainted, as were also the pews, and at a later date they were of pine and painted white.  At a later age, the pulpit window was hung with silk or damask curtains.  The deacons' seats were abandoned, their occupants first retreating to the pews on each side of the pulpit and afterwards seating themselves among the rest of the people without regard to location.

The singing in these old times was as primitive as any other department of their worship, and in the earlier times was performed by the whole congregation, the deacons "reading or deaconing oft two lines of the hymn, which were sung, and another installment given out in the same manner, until the whole was completed.  At a later period, a company of singers occupied the gallery in front of the pulpit, hired their own teacher, found their own books and performed the music without compensation. 

The music at the time was entirely vocal, the introduction of the bass-viol afterwards causing as much excitement as the discovery of a new error in doctrine.  The more rigid denounced the new instrument as the introduction of "devil" into the meeting house, and it is related of one such person that he quit the society in this town, where he had always been connected, and went to Salem, where to his mostly holy horror, he found not only the "devil" in the singing seats, but also two "little devils", as he called two violins, which made part of the instrumental music of the Salem congregation.

When this instrument had fairly overcome the scruples of the people, it was followed by others, such as the violin, flute, bassoon, etc., until some choirs presented quite a row of martial musicians, with distended cheeks, blowing out their accompaniment to the voice of the choir.  These instruments were also the property of the performers, whose services were gratuitous.  There were some evils connected with the gratuitous performances of the choir, among the least which was a frequent deficiency of books.  In these cases, it was not uncommon to see three or four heads together, over one fragment of a hymn book, forming a group that would make a capital study for a Hogarth. 

But the greatest evil of this system was the liability of the choir to be broken up by some real or imaginary cause, such as singers in our day are so sensitive about, and the seats would thus often be deserted until the breach could be healed.  The loss of the services of the choir was generally temporarily supplied by a parity of venerable volunteers from below who supplied with their cracked voices what from courtesy was called music, until the deserted returned to their posts.

The galleries were usually the resort of those who from want of ability or inclination did not provide themselves with seats below.   One side was occupied by the women and the other by males, mostly boys, over whom a watchful guard was kept by the sexton, or tythingmen, who often found it difficult to preserve order, as does the Speaker of the House of Representatives, among the larger boys of Washington.  The punishments were quite summary, generally by seizing the culprit and carrying him away to be imprisoned in the "lobby" or conveying him to a seat apart from his mischievous companions, after a good shaking or box on the ear, in the presence of the whole congregation.  It was always the custom of those in the galleries to wear their hats until the minister got into the deak, and every attempt made by the Committee and influential members of the Society to enforce a more decorous behavior was unsuccessful.

The uneasiness with which the infliction of those long sermons was borne, was often seen by the movements of the older, as well as the younger members of the congregation.  It was not uncommon to see perhaps a dozen elderly men in different parts of the house standing bolt upright seeking comfort from this change of position. This was often the case before the preacher had arrived in the division and subdivision of his discourse farther than sixteenthly. 

The younger part of the audience manifested their uneasiness by more restlessness and noise, and when the final Amen was expected it usually found them, hat in hand, at the door of the pew, which was thrown open with a slam in the midst of the Benediction; and before the wished for word had been fairly pronounced by the preacher, a simultaneous rush was made for the open air.

We might lengthen to almost any extent reminiscences of those ancient structures which are so fast disappearing, but we have already occupied too much of your space.
 

Danvers Courier, 12/17/1845.